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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


THE  PHANTOM  HERD 


"  Let  'em  be.     You  go  ahead  and  read  it  out,"  Applehead 
muttered.     FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  17  4~ 


THE 
PHANTOM  HERD 


BY 

B.  M.  BOWER 


AUTHOR  OF 

CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING-U,  THE  FLYING-U'S 
LAST  STAND,  THE  GRINGOS,  ETC. 


infcUir,  Wrv 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 

MONTE    CREWS 


NEW    YORK 
GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


PS3537 
T  511 


Copyright,  1916, 
LITTIE,  Bnowx,  AND  COMPAMT. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  April,  1916 


FOREWORD 

For  the  accuracy  of  certain  parts  of  this  story 
which  deal  most  intimately  with  the  business  of  mak- 
ing motion  pictures,  I  am  indebted  to  Buck  Connor, 
whose  name  is  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  all  technical 
points  are  correct.  His  criticism,  advice  and  other 
assistance  have  been  invaluable,  and  I  take  this  op- 
portunity of  expressing  my  appreciation  and  thanks 
for  the  help  he  has  given  me. 

B.  M.  BOWEK. 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTEB  PAGE 

I    THE  INDIANS  MUST  Go 1 

II  "WHEBE   THE   CATTLE   ROAMED   IN   THOUSANDS, 

A-MANY  A  HERD  AND  BRAND  .  .  ."  .      .      .     .  13 

III  AND  THEY  SIGH  FOB  THE  DAYS  THAT  ABE  GONE  .  38 

TV    THE  LITTLE  DOCTOB  PBOTESTS 50 

V  A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-HEELERS  FROM  BENTLY  BBOWN  .  66 

VI  VILLAINS  ALL  AND  PROUD  OF  IT      ......  80 

VTI  BENTLY  BROWN  DOES  NOT  APPRECIATE  COMEDY  .  101 

VIII  "THERE'S   GOT   TO   BE   A   LINE   DBA  WED   SOME- 

WHERES  " 114 

LX  LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH 134 

X  UNEXPECTED  GUESTS  FOB  APPLEHEAD    .     .     .     .156 

XI  JUST  A  FEW  UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  ....   175 

XII  "  I  THINK  You  NEED  INDIAN  GIBL  FOB  PICTURE  "  196 

XIII  "  PAM.    BLEAK    MESA  —  CATTLE    DRIFTING    BE- 

FOBE  WIND — " 209 

XIV  "PLUMB  SPOILED,  D'  YUH  MEAN?"      .     .     .     .229 
XV    A  LETTER  FROM  CHIEF  BIG  TURKEY     ....  248 

XVI  "THE  CHANCES  Is  SLIM  AKD  GITTIN'  SLIMMEB"  262 

XVII  THE  STORM  , 274 

XVIII  A  FEW  OF  THE  MINOR  DIFFICULTIES  ....  288 

XIX  WHEREIN  LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH 805 

XX  "  SHE'S  SHAPING  UP  LIKJC  A  BANK  ROLL  "  „  31& 


The  Phantom  Herd 


CHAPTER  OKE 

THE   INDIANS    MUST   GO 

LUCK  Lindsay  had  convoyed  his  thirty-five  actor- 
Indians  to  their  reservation  at  Pine  Ridge,  and 
had  turned  them  over  to  the  agent  in  good  condition 
and  a  fine  humor  and  nice  new  hair  hatbands  and 
other  fixings ;  while  their  pockets  were  heavy  with  dol- 
lars that  you  may  be  sure  would  not  be  spent  very 
wisely.  He  had  shaken  hands  with  the  braves,  and 
had  promised  to  let  them  know  when  there  was  an- 
other job  in  sight,  and  to  speak  a  good  word  for  them 
to  other  motion-picture  companies  who  might  want  to 
hire  real  Indians.  He  had  smiled  at  the  fat  old 
squaws  who  had  waddled  docilely  in  and  out  of  the 
scenes  and  teetered  tirelessly  round  and  round  in 
their  queer  native  dances  in  the  hot  sun  at  his  behest, 
when  Luck  wanted  several  rehearsals  of  "  atmos- 
phere" scenes  before  turning  the  camera  on  them. 


2  THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

They  hated  to  go  back  to  the  tame  life  of  the  reser- 
vation and  to  stringing  beads  and  sewing  buckskin 
with  sinew,  and  to  gossiping  among  themselves  of 
things  their  heary-lidded  black  eyes  had  looked  upon 
with  such  seeming  apathy.  They  had  given  Luck  an 
elaborately  beaded  buckskin  vest  that  would  photo- 
graph beautifully,  and  three  pairs  of  heavy,  beaded 
moccasins  which  he  most  solemnly  assured  them  he 
would  wear  in  his  next  picture.  The  smoke-smell  of 
their  tepee  fires  and  perfumes  still  clung  heavily  to 
the  Indian-tanned  buckskin,  so  that  Luck  carried 
away  with  him  an  aroma  indescribable  and  unmis- 
takable to  any  one  who  has  ever  smelled  it. 

Just  when  he  was  leaving,  a  shy,  big-eyed  girl  of 
ten  had  slid  out  from  the  shelter  of  her  mother's 
poppy-patterned  skirt,  had  proffered  three  strings  of 
beads,  and  had  fled.  Luck  had  smiled  his  smile 
again  —  a  smile  of  white,  even  teeth  and  so  much 
good  will  that  you  immediately  felt  that  he  was  your 
friend  —  and  called  her  back  to  him.  Luck  was 
chief ;  and  his  commands  were  to  be  obeyed,  instantly 
and  implicitly;  that  much  he  had  impressed  deeply 
upon  the  least  of  these.  While  the  squaws  grinned 
and  murmured  Indian  words  to  one  another,  the  big- 
eyed  girl  returned  reluctantly ;  and  Luck,  dropping  a 


THE  INDIANS  MUST  GO          3 

hand  to  his  coat  pocket  while  he  smiled  reassurance, 
emptied  that  pocket  of  gum  for  her.  His  smile  had 
lingered  after  he  turned  away;  for  like  flies  to  an 
open  syrup  can  the  papooses  had  gathered  around 
the  girl. 

Well,  that  job  was  done,  and  done  well.  Every 
one  was  satisfied  save  Luck  himself.  He  swung  up 
to  the  hack  of  the  Indian  pony  that  would  carry  him 
through  the  Bad  Lands  to  the  railroad,  and  turned 
for  a  last  look.  The  bucks  stood  hip-shot  and  with 
their  arms  folded,  watching  him  gravely.  The 
squaws  pushed  straggling  locks  from  their  eyes  that 
they  might  watch  him  also.  The  papooses  were 
chewing  gum  and  staring  at  him  solemnly.  Old 
Mrs.  Ghost-Dog,  she  of  the  ponderous  form  and  plaid 
blanket  that  Luck  had  used  with  such  good  effect  in 
the  foreground  of  his  atmosphere  scenes,  lifted  up 
her  voice  suddenly,  and  wailed  after  him  in  high- 
keyed  lament  that  she  would  see  his  face  no  more ;  and 
Luck  felt  a  sudden  contraction  of  the  throat  while  he 
waved  his  hand  to  them  and  rode  away. 

Well,  now  he  must  go  on  to  the  next  job,  which  he 
hoped  would  be  more  pleasant  than  this  one  had  been. 
Luck  hated  to  give  up  those  Indians.  He  liked  them, 
and  they  liked  him, —  though  that  was  not  the  point. 


4  THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

He  had  done  good  work  with  them.  When  he 
directed  the  scenes,  those  Indians  did  just  what  he 
wanted,  and  just  the  way  he  wanted  it  done;  Luck 
was  too  old  a  director  not  to  know  the  full  value  of 
such  workers. 

Eut  the  Acme  Film  Company,  caught  with  the 
rest  of  the  world  in  the  pressure  of  hard  times, 
wanted  to  economize.  The  manager  had  pointed  out 
to  Luck,  during  the  course  of  an  evening's  discussion, 
that  these  Indians  were  luxuries  in  the  making  of 
pictures,  and  must  be  taken  off  the  payroll  for  the 
good  of  the  dividends.  The  manager  had  contended 
that  white  men  and  women,  properly  made  up,  could 
play  the  part  of  Indians  where  Indians  were  needed ; 
whereas  Indians  could  never  be  made  to  play  the 
part  of  white  men  and  women.  Therefore,  since 
white  men  and  women  were  absolutely  necessary, 
why  keep  a  bunch  of  Indians  around  eating  up 
profits?  The  manager  had  sense  on  his  side,  of 
course.  Other  companies  were  making  Indian  pic- 
tures occasionally  with  not  a  real  Indian  within  miles 
of  the  camera,  but  Luck  Lindsay  groaned  inwardly, 
and  cursed  the  necessity  of  economizing.  For  Luck 
had  one  idol,  and  that  idol  was  realism.  When  the 
scenario  called  for  twenty  or  thirty  Indians,  Luck 


THE  INDIANS  MUST  GO          5 

wanted  Indians, —  real,  smoke-tanned,  blanketed 
bucks  and  squaws  and  papooses;  not  made-up  whites 
who  looked  like  animated  signs  for  cigar  stores  and 
acted  like, —  well,  never  mind  what  Luck  said  they 
acted  like. 

"  I  can  take  the  Injuns  back,"  he  conceded,  "  and 
worry  along  somehow  without  them.  But  if  you 
want  me  to  put  on  any  more  Western  stuff,  you'll 
have  to  let  me  weed  out  some  of  these  Main  Street 
cowboys  that  Clements  wished  on  to  me,  and  go  out 
in  the  sage-brush  and  round  up  some  that  ain't  all 
hair  hatbands  and  high-heeled  boots  and  bluff.  I've 
got  to  have  some  whites  to  fill  the  foreground,  if  I 
give  up  the  Injuns ;  or  else  I  quit  Western  stuff  alto- 
gether. I've  been  stalling  along  and  keeping  the 
best  of  the  bucks  in  the  foreground,  and  letting  these 
said  riders  lope  in  and  out  of  scenes  and  pile  off  and 
go  to  shooting  soon  as  the  camera  picks  them  up,  but 
with  the  Injuns  gone,  the  whites  won't  get  by. 
•  "  Maybe  you  have  noticed  that  when  there  was 
'  any  real  riding,  I've  had  the  Injuns  do  it.  And  do 
you  think  I've  been  driving  that  stagecoach  hell-bent 
from  here  to  beyond  because  I'd  no  other  way  to  kill 
time?  Wasn't  another  darned  man  in  the  outfit  I'd 
trust,  that's  why.  If  I  take  the  Indians  back,  I've 


6  THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

got   to   have   some  real   boys."     Luck's   voice   was 
plaintive,  and  a  little  bit  desperate. 

"  Well,  dammit,  have  your  real  boys !  I  never 
said  you  shouldn't.  Weed  out  the  company  to  suit 
yourself.  You'll  have  to  take  the  Injuns  back;  no- 
body else  can  handle  the  touch-me-not  devils.  You 
can  lay  off  the  company  if  you  want  to,  and  while 
you're  up  there  pick  up  a  bunch  of  cowboys  to  suit 
you.  You're  making  good,  Luck;  don't  take  it  that 
I'm  criticizing  anything  you've  done  or  the  way  you 
did  it.  You've  been  turning  out  the  best  Western 
stuff  that  goes  on  the  screen;  anybody  knows  that. 
That  isn't  the  point.  We  just  simply  can't  afford  to 
keep  those  Indians  any  longer  without  retrenching 
on  something  else  that's  a  lot  more  vital.  You  know 
what  they  cost  as  well  as  I  do ;  you  know  what  pres- 
ent conditions  are.  Figure  it  out  for  yourself." 

"  I  don't  have  to,"  Luck  retorted  in  a  worried  tone. 
"  I  know  what  we're  up  against.  I  know  we  ought 
to  give  them  up  —  but  I  sure  hate  to  do  it !  Lor-dee, 
but  I  can  do  things  with  that  bunch!  Remember 
Red  Brother  ?  "  Luck  was  off  on  his  hobby,  the  mak- 
ing of  Indian  pictures.  "  Remember  the  panoram 
effect  I  got  on  that  massacre  of  the  wagon  train? 
Remember  the  council-of-war  scene,  and  the  close-up 


THE  INDIANS  MUST  GO         7 

of  Young-Dog-Howls-At-The-Moon  making  his  plea 
for  the  lives  of  the  prisoners  ?  And  the  war  dance 
with  radium  flares  in  the  camp  fires  to  give  the  light- 
effect  ?  That  film's  in  big  demand  yet,  they  tell  me. 
I'll  never  be  able  to  put  over  stuff  like  that  with  made- 
up  actors,  Martinson.  You  know  I  can't." 

"  I  don't  know ;  you're  only  just  beginning  to  hit 
your  gait,  Luck,"  the  manager  soothed.  "  You  hare 
turned  out  some  big  stuff, —  some  awful  big  stuff; 
but  at  that  you're  just  beginning  to  find  yourself. 
]STow,  listen.  You  can  have  your  (  real  boys '  you're 
always  crying  for.  I  can  see  what  you  mean  when 
you  pan  these  fellows  you  call  Main  Street  cowboys. 
What  you  better  do  is  this:  Close  down  the 
company  for  two  weeks,  say.  Keep  on  the  ones  you 
want,  and  let  the  rest  out.  And  take  these  Injuns 
home,  and  then  get  out  after  your  riders.  Numbers 
and  salaries  we'll  leave  to  you.  Go  as  far  as  you 
like;  it's  a  cinch  you'll  get  what  you  want  if  you're 
allowed  to  go  after  it." 

So  here  was  Luck,  arriving  in  due  time  at  the  rail- 
road. He  said  good-by  to  Young-Dog-Howls- At-The- 
Moon  who  had  ridden  with  him,  and  whose  kingly 
bearing  and  clean-cut  features  and  impressive  pan- 
tomime made  him  a  popular  screen-Indian,  and  sat 


8  THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

down  upon  a  baggage  truck  to  smoke  a  cigarette  while 
he  waited  for  the  westhound  train.  Young-Dog- 
Howls-At-The-Moon  he  watched  meditatively  until 
that  young  man  had  bobbed  out  of  sight  over  a  low 
hill,  the  pony  Luck  had  ridden  trailing  after  at  the 
end  of  the  lead-rope.  Luck's  face  was  sober,  his  eyes 
tired  and  unsmiling.  He  had  done  that  much  of  his 
task :  he  had  returned  the  Indians,  and  automatically 
wiped  a  very  large  item  of  expense  from  the  accounts 
of  the  Acme  Film  Company.  He  did  not  like  to 
dwell,  however,  on  the  cost  to  his  own  pride  in  his 
work. 

The  next  job,  now  that  he  was  actually  face  to  face 
with  it,  looked  not  so  simple.  He  was  in  a  country 
where,  a  few  years  before,  his  quest  for  "  real  boys  " 
—  as  he  affectionately  termed  the  type  nearest  his 
heart  —  would  have  been  easy  enough.  But  before 
the  marching  ranks  of  fence  posts  and  barbed  wire, 
the  real  boys  had  scattered.  A  more  or  less  benef- 
icent government  had  not  gathered  them  together, 
and  held  them  apart  from  the  changing  conditions, 
as  it  had  done  with  the  Indians.  The  real  boys  had 
either  left  the  country,  or  had  sold  their  riding  out- 
fits and  gone  into  business  in  the  little  towns  scattered 
hereabouts,  or  else  they  had  taken  to  farming  the  land 


THE  INDIANS  MUST  GO          9 

where  the  big  herds  had  grazed  while  the  real  boys 
loafed  on  guard. 

Luck  admitted  to  himself  that  in  the  past  two 
years,  even,  conditions  had  changed  amazingly. 
Land  was  fenced  that  had  been  free.  Even  the  reser- 
vation was  changed  a  little.  He  threw  away  that 
cigarette  and  lighted  another,  and  turned  aggrievedly 
upon  a  dried  little  man  who  came  up  with  the  open 
expectation  of  using  the  truck  upon  which  Luck  was 
sitting  uncomfortably.  There  was  the  squint  of 
long  looking  against  sun  and  wind  at  a  far  skyline 
in  the  dried  little  man's  face.  There  was  a  certain 
bow  in  his  legs,  and  there  were  various  other  signs 
which  Luck  read  instinctively  as  he  got  up.  He 
smiled  his  smile,  and  the  dried  little  man  grinned 
back  companionably. 

"  Say,  old-timer,  what's  gone  with  all  the  cattle 
and  all  the  punchers  ? "  Luck  demanded  with  a  mild 
querulousness. 

The  dried  little  man  straightened  from  the  truck 
handles  and  regarded  Luck  strangely. 

"  My  gorry,  son,  plumb  hazed  off'n  this  section 
the  earth,  I  reckon.  Farmers  and  punchers,  they 
don't  mix  no  better'n  sheep  and  cattle.  Why,  I 
mind  the  time  when  — " 


10          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

The  train  was  late,  anyway,  and  the  dried  little 
man  sat  down  on  the  truck,  and  fumbled  his  cigarette 
book,  and  began  to  talk.  Luck  sat  down  beside  him 
and  listened,  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his 
knees  and  a  cold  cigarette  in  his  fingers.  It  was  not 
of  this  part  of  the  country  that  the  dried  little  man 
talked,  but  of  Montana,  over  there  to  the  west.  Of 
northern  Montana  in  the  days  when  it  was  cowman's 
paradise;  the  days  when  round-up  wagons  started 
out  with  the  grass  greening  the  hilltops,  and  swung 
from  the  Rockies  to  the  Bear  Paws  and  beyond  in  the 
wide  arc  that  would  cover  their  range;  of  the  days 
of  the  Cross  L  and  the  Rocking  R  and  the  Lazy  Eight, 
—  every  one  of  them  brand  names  to  glisten  the  eyes 
of  old-time  Montanans. 

"  Where  would  you  go  to  find  them  boys  now  ? " 
the  dried  little  man  questioned  mournfully.  "  The 
Rocking  R's  gone  into  sheep,  and  the  old  boys  have 
all  left.  The  Cross  L  moved  up  into  Canada,  Lord 
knows  how  they're  making  out;  I  don't.  Only  out- 
fit in  northern  Montana  I  know  that  has  hung  to- 
gether at  all  is  the  Flying  U.  Old  man  Whitmore, 
he's  hangin'  on  by  his  eyewinkers  to  what  little  range 
he  can,  and  is  going  in  for  thoroughbreds.  Most  of 
his  boys  is  with  him  yet,  they  tell  me  — " 


THE  INDIANS  MUST  GO       11 

"  What  they  doing  ?  Still  riding  ?  "  Luck  let  out 
a  long  breath  and  lighted  his  cigarette.  A  little 
flare  of  hope  had  come  into  his  eyes. 

"  Elding  —  yes,  what  little  there  is  to  do.  Ranch- 
ing a  little  too,  and  kicking  about  changed  times, 
same  as  I'm  doing.  Last  time  I  saw  that  outfit  they 
was  riding,  you  bet ! "  The  dried  little  man 
chuckled,  "  That  was  in  Great  Falls,  some  time 
back.  They  was  all  in  a  contest,  and  pulling  down 
the  money,  too.  I  was  talking  to  old  man  Whitmore 
all  one  evening.  He  was  telling  me — " 

From  away  out  yonder  behind  a  hill  came  the 
throaty  call  of  the  coming  train.  The  dried  little 
man  jumped  up,  mumbled  that  it  did  beat  all  how 
time  went  when  yuh  got  to  talking  over  old  days, 
and  hustled  two  trunks  out  of  the  baggage  room. 
Luck  got  his  grip  out  of  the  office,  settled  himself 
into  his  coat,  and  took  a  last,  long  pull  at  the  cigarette 
stub  before  he  threw  it  away.  It  was  not  much  of  a 
clue  that  he  had  fallen  upon  by  chance,  but  Luck  was 
not  one  to  wait  until  he  was  slapped  in  the  face  with 
a  fact.  He  had  intended  swinging  back  through 
Arizona,  where  in  certain  parts  cattle  still  were  wild 
enough  to  bunch  up  at  sight  of  a  man  afoot.  His 
questioning  of  the  dried  little  man  had  not  been  born 


12          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

of  any  concrete  purpose,  but  of  the  range  man's 
plaint  in  the  abstract.     Still  — 

"  Say,  brother,  what's  the  Flying  U's  home  town  ?  " 
he  called  after  the  dried  little  man  with  his  amiable, 
Southern  drawl. 

"  Huh  ?  Dry  Lake.  Yuh  taking  this  train  ?  " 
"  So  long  —  taking  it  for  a  ways,  yes."  Luck 
hurried  down  to  where  a  kinky-haired  porter  stood 
apathetically  beside  the  steps  of  his  coach.  Dry 
Lake?  He  had  never  heard  of  the  place,  but  he 
could  find  out  from  the  railroad  map  or  the  con- 
ductor. He  swung  his  grip  into  the  waiting  hand 
of  the  porter  and  went  up  the  steps  hurriedly.  He 
meant  to  find  out  where  Dry  Lake  was,  and  whether 
this  train  would  take  him  there. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

"WHEKE     THE     CATTLE     EOAMED     IN     THOUSANDS, 

A-MANY   A    HEED   AND    BBAND    .    .    ." 

—  Old  Range  Song. 


IF  you  are  at  all  curious  over  the  name  to  which 
Luck  Lindsay  answered  unhesitatingly, —  his 
very  acceptance  of  it  proving  his  willingness  to  be  so 
identified, —  I  can  easily  explain.  Some  nicknames 
have  their  origin  in  mystery ;  there  was  no  mystery  at 
all  surrounding  the  name  men  had  bestowed  upon 
Lucas  Justin  Lindsay.  In  the  first  place,  his  legal 
cognomen  being  a  mere  pandering  to  the  vanity  of. 
two  grandfathers  who  had  no  love  for  each  other 
and  so  must  both  be  mollified,  never  had  appealed  to 
Luck  or  to  any  of  his  friends.  Luck  would  have 
been  grateful  for  any  nickname  that  would  have 
wiped  Lucas  Justin  from  the  minds  of  men.  But 
the  real  reason  was  a  quirk  in  Luck's  philosophy  of 
life.  Anything  that  he  greatly  desired  to  see  accom- 
plished, he  professed  to  leave  to  chance.  He  would 


14          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

smile  his  smile,  and  lift  his  shoulders  in  the  Spanish 
way  he  had  learned  in  Mexico  and  the  Philippines, 
and  say:  "That's  as  luck  will  have  it.  Quien 
sdbe?  "  Then  he  would  straightway  go  ahout  bring- 
ing the  thing  to  pass  by  his  own  dogged  efforts.  Men 
fell  into  the  habit  of  calling  him  Luck,  and  they  for- 
got that  he  had  any  other  name ;  so  there  you  have  it, 
straight  and  easily  understandable. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  then, —  and  no  pun  in- 
tended, please, —  he  found  himself  en  route  to  Dry 
Lake  without  any  trouble  at  all ;  a  mere  matter  of  one 
change  of  trains  and  very  close  connections,  the  con- 
ductor told  him.  So  Luck  went  out  and  found  a 
chair  on  the  observation  platform,  and  gave  himself 
up  to  his  cigar  and  to  contemplation  of  the  country 
they  were  gliding  through.  What  he  would  find  at 
Dry  Lake  to  make  the  stop  worth  his  while  did  not 
worry  him ;  he  left  that  to  the  future  and  to  the  god 
Chance  whom  he  professed  to  serve.  He  was  doing 
his  part;  he  was  going  there  to  find  out  what  the 
place  held  for  him.  If  it  held  nothing  but  a  half 
dozen  ex-cow-punchers  hopelessly  tamed  and  turned 
farmers,  why,  there  would  probably  be  a  train  to 
carry  him  further  in  his  quest.  He  would  drop 
down  into  Wyoming  and  Arizona  and  New  Mexico, 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  15 

—  just  keep  going  till  he  did  find  the  men  he  wanted. 
That  was  Luck's  way. 

The  shadows  grew  long  and  spread  over  the  land 
until  the  whole  vast  country  lay  darkling  under  the 
coming  night.  Luck  went  in  and  ate  his  dinner,  and 
came  back  again  to  smoke  and  stare  and  dream. 
There  was  a  moon  now  that  silvered  the  slopes  and 
set  wide  expanses  shimmering. 

Luck,  always  more  or  less  a  dreamer,  began  to 
people  the  plain  with  the  things  that  had  been  but 
were  no  more:  with  buffalo  and  with  Indians  who 
camped  on  the  trail  of  the  big  herds.  He  saw  their 
villages,  the  tepees  smoke-grimed  and  painted  with 
symbols,  some  of  them,  huddled  upon  a  knoll  out 
there  near  the  timber  line.  He  heard  the  tom-toms 
and  he  saw  the  rhythmic  leaping  and  treading,  the 
posing  and  gesturing  of  the  braves  who  danced  in  the 
firelight  the  tribal  Buffalo  Dance. 

After  that  he  saw  the  coming  of  the  cattle,  driven 
up  from  the  south  by  wind-browned,  saddle-weary 
cowboys  who  sang  endless  chanteys  to  pass  the  time 
as  they  rode  with  their  herds  up  the  long  trail.  He 
saw  the  cattle  humped  and  drifting  before  the  wind 
in  the  first  blizzards  of  winter,  while  gray  wolves 
slunk  watchfully  here  and  there,  their  shaggy  coats 


16          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ruffled  by  the  biting  wind.  He  saw  them  when  came 
the  chinook,  a  howling,  warm  wind  from  out  the 
southwest,  cutting  the  snowbanks  as  with  a  knife  that 
turned  to  water  what  it  touched,  and  laying  bare  the 
brown  grass  beneath.  He  saw  the  riders  go  out  with 
the  wagons  to  gather  the  lank-bodied,  big-kneed  calves 
and  set  upon  them  the  searing  mark  of  their  owner's 
iron. 

Urged  by  the  spell  of  the  dried  little  man's  plain- 
tive monologue,  the  old  range  lived  again  for  Luck, 
out  there  under  the  moon,  while  the  train  carried  him 
on  and  on  through  the  night. 

What  a  picture  it  all  would  make  —  the  story  of 
those  old  days  as  they  had  been  lived  by  men  now 
growing  old  and  bent.  "With  all  the  cheap,  stagy 
melodrama  thrown  to  one  side  to  make  room  for  the 
march  of  that  bigger  drama,  an  epic  of  the  range  land 
that  would  be  at  once  history,  poetry,  realism ! 

Luck's  cigar  went  out  while  he  sat  there  and 
wove  scene  after  scene  of  that  story  which  should 
breathe  of  the  real  range  land  as  it  once  had  been. 
It  could  be  done  —  that  picture.  Months  it  would 
take  in  the  making,  for  it  would  swing  through  sum- 
mer and  fall  and  winter  and  spring.  With  the  trail- 
herd  going  north  that  picture  should  open  —  the 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  17 

trail-herd  toiling  over  big,  unpeopled  plains,  with  the 
riders  slouched  in  their  saddles,  hat  brims  pulled 
low  over  eyes  that  ached  with  the  glare  of  the  sun 
and  the  sweep  of  wind,  their  throats  parched  in  the 
dust  cloud  flung  upward  from  the  marching,  cloven 
hoofs.  Months  it  would  take  in  the  making, —  but 
sitting  there  with  the  green  tail-lights  switching 
through  cuts  and  around  low  hills  and  out  over  the 
level,  Luck  visioned  it  all,  scene  by  scene.  Visioned 
the  herd  huddled  together  in  the  night  while  the 
heavens  were  split  with  lightning,  and  the  rain  came 
down  in  white-lighted  streamers  of  water.  Visioned 
the  cattle  humped  in  the  snow,  tails  to  the  biting 
wind,  and  the  riders  plodding  with  muffled  heads 
bent  to  the  drive  of  the  blizzard,  the  fine  snow  pack- 
ing full  the  wrinkles  in  their  sourdough  coats. 

It  could  be  done.  He,  Luck  Lindsay,  could  do  it ; 
in  his  heart  he  knew  that  he  could.  In  his  heart  he 
felt  that  all  of  these  months  —  yes,  and  years  —  of 
picture-making  had  been  but  a  preparation  for  this 
'  great  picture  of  the  range.  All  these  one-reel  pioneer 
pictures  had  been  merely  the  feeble  efforts  of  an 
apprentice  learning  to  handle  the  tools  of  his  craft, 
the  mental  gropings  of  his  mind  while  waiting  for 
this,  his  big  idea.  His  work  with  the  Indians  was 


18          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

the  mere  testing  and  trying  of  certain  photographic 
effects,  certain  camera  limitations.  He  felt  like  an 
athlete  taught  and  trained  and  tempered  and  just 
stepping  out  now  for  the  big  physical  achievement  of 
his  life. 

He  grew  chilled  as  the  night  advanced,  but  he  did 
not  know  that  he  was  cold.  He  was  wondering,  as  a 
man  always  wonders  in  the  face  of  an  intellectual 
birth,  why  this  picture  had  not  come  to  him  before; 
why  he  had  gone  on  through  these  months  and  years  of 
turning  out  reel  upon  reel  of  Western  pictures,  with 
never  once  a  glimmering  of  this  great  epic  of  the 
range  land ;  why  he  had  clung  to  his  Indians  and  his 
one-reel  Indian  pictures  with  now  and  then  a  three- 
reel  feature  to  give  him  the  elation  of  having  achieved 
something ;  why  he  had  left  them  feeling  depressedly 
that  his  best  work  was  in  the  past ;  why  he  had  looked 
upon  real  range-men  as  a  substitute  only  for  those 
lean-bodied  bucks  and  those  fat,  stupid-eyed  squaws 
and  dirty  papooses. 

With  the  spell  of  his  vision  deep  upon  his  soul, 
Luck  sat  humiliated  before  his  blindness.  The  pic- 
ture he  saw  as  he  stared  out  across  the  moonlit  plain 
was  so  clean-cut,  so  vivid,  that  he  marvelled  because 
he  had  never  seen  it  until  this  night  Perhaps,  if 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  19 

the  dried  little  man  had  not  talked  of  the  old  range  — 
Luck  took  a  long  breath  and  flung  his  cigar  out 
over  the  platform  rail.  The  dried  little  man? 
Why,  just  as  he  stood  he  was  a  type!  He  was  the 
Old  Man  who  owned  this  herd  that  should  trail  north 
and  on  through  scene  after  scene  of  the  picture !  No 
make-up  needed  there  to  stamp  the  sense  of  reality 
upon  the  screen.  Luck  looked  with  the  eye  of  his 
imagination  and  saw  the  dried  little  man  climbing, 
with  a  stiffness  that  could  not  hide  his  accustomed- 
ness,  into  the  saddle.  He  saw  him  ride  out  with  his 
men,  scattering  his  riders  for  the  round-up;  the  old 
cowman  making  sharper  the  contrast  of  the  younger 
men,  fixing  indelibly  upon  the  consciousness  of  those 
who  watched  that  this  same  dried  little  man  had 
grown  old  in  the  saddle;  fixing  indelibly  the  fact 
that  not  in  a  day  did  the  free  ranging  of  cattle  grow 
to  be  one  of  the  nation's  great  industries. 

Of  a  sudden  Luck  got  up  and  stood  swaying  easily 
to  the  motion  of  the  car  while  he  took  a  long,  last 
look  at  the  moon-bathed  plain  where  had  been  born 
his  great,  beautiful  picture.  He  stretched  his  arms 
as  does  one  who  has  slept  heavily,  and  went  inside 
and  down  to  the  beginning  of  the  narrow  aisle  where 
were  kept  telegraph  forms  in  their  wooden-barred 


20          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

niches  in  the  wall.  He  went  into  the  smoking  com- 
partment and  wrote,  with  a  sureness  that  knew  no 
crossed-out  words,  a  night  letter  to  the  dried  little 
man  who  had  sat  on  the  baggage  truck  and  talked  of 
the  range.  And  this  is  what  went  speeding  back 
presently  to  the  dried  little  man  who  slept  in  a  cabin 
near  the  track  and  dreamed,  perhaps,  of  following  the 
big  herds: 

Baggage  man, 

Sioux,  N.  D. 

Report  at  once  to  me  at  Dry  Lake.  Can  offer 
you  good  position  Acme  Film  Company,  good  salary 
working  in  big  Western  picture.  Small  part,  some 
riding  among  real  boys  who  know  range  life.  Want 
you  bad  as  type  of  cowman  owning  cattle  in  picture. 
Salary  and  expenses  begin  when  you  show  up.  For 
references  see  Indian  Agent. 

LUCK  LESTDSAY, 
Dry  Lake,  Mont. 

If  you  count,  you  will  see  that  he  ran  eight  words 
over  the  limit  of  the  flat  rate  on  night  letters,  but  he 
would  have  over-run  the  limit  by  eighty  words  just 
as  quickly  if  he  had  wanted  to  say  so  much.  That 
was  Luck's  way.  Be  it  a  telegram,  instructions  to 
his  company,  or  a  quarrel  with  some  one  who  crossed 
him,  Luck  said  what  he  wanted  to  say  —  and  paid 
the  price  without  blinking. 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  21 

I  don't  know  what  the  dried  little  man  thought 
when  the  operator  handed  him  that  message  the  next 
morning;  but  I  can  tell  you  in  a  few  words  what  he 
did:  He  arrived  in  Dry  Lake  just  two  trains  be- 
hind Luck. 

Luck  did  not  sleep  that  night.  He  lay  in  his  berth 
with  the  shade  pushed  up  as  high  as  it  would  go,  and 
stared  out  at  the  tamed  plain,  and  perfected  the  de- 
tails of  his  Big  Picture.  Into  the  spell  of  the  range 
he  wove  a  story  of  human  love  and  human  hate  and 
danger  and  trouble.  So  it  must  be,  to  carry  his 
message  to  the  world  who  would  look  and  marvel  at 
what  he  would  show  them  in  the  drama  of  silence. 
He  had  not  named  his  picture  yet.  The  name  would 
come  in  its  own  good  time,  just  as  the  picture  had 
come  when  the  time  for  its  making  was  ripe. 

The  next  day  he  did  not  talk  with  the  men  whose 
elbows  he  touched  in  the  passing  intimacy  of  travel ; 
though.  Luck  was  a  companionable  soul  who  was 
much  given  to  talking  and  to  seeing  his  listeners  grow 
to  an  audience, —  an  appreciative  audience  that 
laughed  much  while  they  listened  and  frowned  upon 
interruption.  Instead,  he  sat  silent  in  his  seat,  since 
on  this  train  there  was  no  observation  car,  and  he 
stared  out  of  the  window  without  seeing  much  of 


22          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

what  passed  before  his  eyes,  and  made  notes  now  and 
then,  and  covered  all  the  margins  of  his  time-table 
with  figures  that  had  to  do  with  film.  Once,  I  know, 
he  blackened  his  two  front  teeth  with  pencil  tappings 
while  he  visualized  a  stampede  and  the  probable 
amount  of  footage  it  would  require,  and  debated 
whether  it  should  be  "  shot "  with  two  cameras  or 
three  to  get  scenes  from  different  angles.  A  stampede 
it  should  be, —  a  real  stampede  of  fear-frenzied  range 
cattle  in  the  mad  flight  of  terror;  not  a  bunch  of 
galloping  tame  cows  urged  to  foreground  by  shouting 
and  rock-throwing  from  beyond  the  side  lines  of  the 
scene.  It  would  be  hard  to  get,  and  it  could  not  be 
rehearsed  before  the  camera  was  turned  on  it.  Luck 
decided  that  it  should  be  shot  from  three  angles,  at 
least,  and  if  he  could  manage  it  he  would  have  a 
"  panoram  "  of  the  whole  thing  from  a  height. 

The  porter  came  apologetically  with  his  big  whisk 
broom  and  told  Luck  that  they  would  all  presently  be 
gazing  at  Dry  Lake,  or  words  which  carried  that 
meaning.  So  Luck  permitted  himself  to  be  whisked 
from  a  half  dollar  while  his  thoughts  were  "  in  the 
field  "  with  his  camera  men  and  company,  shooting  a 
real  stampede  from  various  angles  and  trying  to 
manage  so  that  the  dust  should  not  obscure  the  scene. 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  23 

After  a  rain  —  of  course!  Just  after  a  soaking 
rain,  he  thought,  while  he  gathered  up  his  time-table 
and  a  magazine  that  held  his  precious  figures,  and 
followed  the  porter  out  to  the  vestibule  while  the 
train  slowed. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  Luck  descended  to  the 
Dry  Lake  depot  platform  and  looked  about  him.  He 
had  no  high  expectation  of  finding  here  what  he 
sought.  He  was  simply  making  sure,  before  he  left 
the  country  behind  him,  that  he  had  not  "  overlooked 
any  bets."  His  mind  was  open  to  conviction  even 
while  it  was  prepared  against  disappointment ;  there- 
fore his  eyes  were  as  clear  of  any  prejudice  as  they 
were  of  any  glamour.  He  saw  things  as  they  were. 

On  the  side  track,  then,  stood  a  string  of  cars 
loaded  with  wool,  as  his  nose  told  him  promptly. 
Farms  there  were  none,  but  that  was  because  the  soil 
was  yellow  and  pebbly  and  barren  where  it  showed  in 
great  bald  spots  here  and  there;  you  would  not  ex- 
pect to  raise  cabbages  where  a  prairie  dog  had  to 
forage  far  for  a  living.  Behind  the  depot,  the 
prairie  humped  a  huge,  broad  shoulder  of  bluff 
wrinkled  along  the  forward  slope  of  it  like  the  folds 
of  a  full  fashioned  skirt.  There,  too,  the  soil  was 
bare, —  clipped  to  the  very  grass  roots  by  hundreds 


24,          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

upon  hundreds  of  hungry  sheep  whose  wool,  very 
likely,  was  crowding  those  cars  upon  the  siding. 
Luck  wasted  neither  glances  nor  thought  upon  the 
scene.  Dry  Lake  was  like  many,  many  other  out- 
worn "  cow  towns  "  through  which  he  had  passed ; 
changed  without  being  bettered;  all  of  the  old  life 
taken  out  of  it  in  the  process  of  its  taming. 

He  threw  his  grip  into  the  waiting,  three-seated 
spring  wagon  that  served  as  a  hotel  bus,  climbed 
briskly  after  it,  and  glanced  ahead  to  where  he  saw 
the  age-blackened  boards  of  the  stockyards.  Cattle 
—  and  then  came  the  sheep.  So  runs  the  epitaph  of 
the  range,  and  it  was  written  plainly  across  Dry  Lake 
and  its  surroundings. 

They  went  up  a  dusty  trail  and  past  the  yawning 
wings  of  the  stockyards  where  a  bunch  of  sheep 
blatted  now  in  the  thirst  of  mid-afternoon.  They 
stopped  before  the  hotel  where,  in  the  old  days,  many 
a  town-hungry  puncher  had  set  his  horse  upon  its 
haunches  that  he  might  dismount  in  a  style  to  match 
his  eagerness.  Luck  climbed  out  and  stood  for  a 
minute  looking  up  and  down  the  sandy  street  that 
slept  in  the  sun  and  dreamed,  it  may  be,  of  rich,  un- 
forgotten  moments  when  the  cow-punchers  had  come 
in  off  the  range  and  stirred  the  sluggish  town  to  a 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  25 

full,  brief  life  with  their  rollicking.  Across  the 
street  was  Rusty  Brown's  place,  with  its  narrow 
porch  deserted  of  loafers  and  its  windows  blinking 
at  the  street  with  a  blackness  that  belied  the  things 
they  had  looked  upon  in  bygone  times. 

A  less  experienced  man  than  Luck  would  have  been, 
convinced  by  now  that  here  was  no  place  to  go  seek- 
ing "  real  boys."  But  Luck  had  been  a  range  man 
himself  before  he  took  to  making  motion  pictures; 
he  knew  range  towns  as  he  knew  men, —  which  was 
very  well  indeed.  He  looked,  as  ho  stood  there,  not 
disgusted  but  mildly  speculative.  Two  horses  were 
tied  to  the  hitching  rail  before  Rusty  Brown's  place. 
These  horses  bore  saddles  and  bridles,  and,  if  you 
know  the  earmarks,  you  can  learn  a  good  deal  about 
a  rider  just  by  looking  at  his  outfit.  Neither  sad- 
dle was  new,  but  both  gave  evidence  of  a  master's 
pride  in  his  gear.  They  were  well-preserved  saddles. 
They  had  the  conservative  swell  of  fork  that  told 
Luck  almost  to  a  year  how  old  they  were.  One,  he 
judged,  was  of  California  make,  or  at  least  came 
from  the  extreme  southwest  of  the  cattle  country.  It 
had  a  good  deal  of  silver  on  it,  and  the  tapideros  were 
almost  Mexican  in  their  elaborateness.  The  bridle 
on  that  honse  matched  the  saddle,  and  the  headstall 


26 

was  beautiful  with  silver  kept  white  and  clean. 
The  rope  coiled  and  tied  beside  the  saddle  fork  was 
of  rawhide.  (Luck  did  not  need  to  cross  the  street 
to  be  sure  of  these  details ;  observation  was  a  part  of 
his  profession.)  The  other  saddle  was  the  kind 
most  favored  on  the  northern  range.  Short,  round 
skirts,  open  stirrups,  narrow  and  rimmed  with  iron. 
Stamped  with  a  two-inch  border  of  wild  rose  design, 
it  pleased  Luck  by  its  very  simplicity.  The  rope 
was  a  good  "  grass  "  rope  worn  smooth  and  hard  with 
much  use. 

Luck  flipped  a  match  stub  out  into  the  dust  of  the 
street,  tilted  his  small  Stetson  at  an  angle  over  his 
eyes,  went  over  to  the  horses,  and  looked  at  their 
brands  which  had  been  hidden  from  him.  One  was 
a  Flying  U,  and  the  other  bore  a  blurred  monogram 
which  he  did  not  trouble  to  decipher.  He  turned  on 
his  heels  and  went  into  Rusty's  place. 

On  his  way  to  the  bar  he  cast  an  appraising  glance 
around  the  room  and  located  his  men.  Here,  too,  a 
less  experienced  man  might  have  blundered.  One, 
known  to  his  fellows  as  the  ISTative  Son,  would 
scarcely  be  mistaken;  his  dress,  too,  evidently 
matched  the  silver-trimmed  saddle  outside.  But 
Andy  Green,  in  blue  overalls  turned  up  five  inches 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  27 

at  the  bottom,  and  somewhat  battered  gray  hat  and 
gray  chambray  shirt,  might  have  been  almost  any 
type  of  outdoor  man.  Certain  it  is  that  few  stran- 
gers would  have  guessed  that  he  was  one  of  the  best 
riders  in  that  part  of  the  State. 

Luck  bought  a  couple  of  good  cigars,  threw  away 
his  cigarette  and  lighted  one,  set  the  knuckles  of  his 
left  hand  upon  his  hip,  and  sauntered  over  to  the 
pool  table  where  the  two  men  he  wanted  to  meet  were 
languidly  playing  out  their  third  string.  He 
watched  them  for  a  few  minutes,  smiled  sympa- 
thetically when  Andy  Green  made  a  scratch  and 
swore  over  it,  and  backed  out  of  the  way  of  the  Na- 
tive Son,  who  sprawled  himself  over  the  table  corner 
and  did  not  seem  to  know  or  to  care  how  far  the  end 
of  his  cue  reached  behind  him. 

Luck  did  not  say  a  word  to  either ;  but  Andy,  not- 
ing the  smile  of  sympathy,  gave  him  a  keenly  at- 
tentive glance  as  he  came  up  to  that  end  of  the  table 
to  empty  a  corner  pocket.  He  fished  out  the  four 
and  the  nine,  juggled  them  absently  in  his  hand,  and 
turned  and  looked  at  Luck  again,  straight  and  close. 
Luck  once  more  smiled  his  smile. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  you  know  me,  brother,"  he 
said,  answering  Andy's  unspoken  thought.  "  I'd 


28          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

have  remembered  you  if  I'd  ever  met  you.  You  may 
have  seen  me  in  a  picture  somewhere." 

"  By  gracious,  are  you  the  little  fellow  that  drove 
a  stage  coach  and  six  horses  down  off  a  grade  — " 

"  That's  my  number,  old-timer."  Luck's  smile 
widened  to  a  grin.  That  had  been  a  hair-lifting 
scene,  and  Andy  Green  was  r'.'ot  the  first  stranger  to 
walk  up  and  ask  him  if  he  had  driven  that  stage 
coach  and  six  horses  down  off  a  mountain  grade  into 
a  wide  gulch  to  avoid  being  held  up  and  the  regula- 
tion box  of  gold  stolen.  It  was  probably  the  most 
spectacular  thing  Luck  had  ever  done.  "  Got  down 
that  bank  fine  as  silk,"  he  volunteered  companion- 
ably,  "  and  then  when  I'd  passed  camera  and  was 
outa  the  scene,  by  thunder,  I  tangled  up  with  a  deep 
chuck-hole  that  was  grown  over  with  weeds,  and  like 
to  have  broken  my  fool  neck.  How's  that  for  luck  ?  " 
He  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips  and  smiled  again 
with  half -closed,  measuring  eyes.  "  Yes,  sir,  I  just 
plumb  'spoiled  one  perfectly  good  Concord  coach, 
and  would  have  been  playing  leading  corpse  at  a  fu- 
neral, believe  me,  if  I  hadn't  strapped  myself  to  the 
seat  for  that  drive  off  the  grade.  As  it  was,  I  hung 
head  down  and  cussed  till  one  of  the  boys  cut  me 
loose.  Where  did  you  see  the  picture  ?  " 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  29 

"  Me?  Up  in  the  Falls.  Say,  I'm  glad  to  meet 
you.  Luck  Lindsay's  your  name,  ain't  it?  I  re- 
member you  were  called  that  in  the  picture.  Mine's 
Green,  Andy  Green, —  when  folks  don't  call  me 
something  worse.  And  this  is  Miguel  Kapponi,  a 
whole  lot  whiter  than  he  sounds.  What,  for  Lordy 
sake,  you  wasting  time  on  this  little  old  hasbeen  burg 
for?  Take  it  from  me,  there  ain't  anything  left 
here  but  dents  in  the  road  and  a  brimstone  smell. 
We're  all  plumb  halter-broke  and  so  tame  we  — " 

"  You  look  all  right  to  me,  brother,"  Luck  told  him 
in  that  convincing  tone  he  had. 

"  Well,  same  to  you,"  Andy  retorted  with  a  frank 
heartiness  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  bestowing  upon 
strangers.  "  I  feel  as  if  I'd  worked  with  you.  Pink 
was  with  me  when  we  saw  that  picture,  and  we  both 
hollered  '  Go  to  it ! '  right  out  loud,  when  you  gath- 
ered up  the  ribbons  and  yanked  off  the  brake  and 
went  off  hell-popping  and  smiling  back  over  your 
shoulder  at  us.  It  was  your  size  and  that  smile  of 
yours  that  made  me  remember  you.  You  looked 
like  a  kid  when  you  mounted  to  the  boot;  and  you 
drove  down  off  smiling,  and  you  had  one  helanall  of  a 
trip,  and  you  drove  off  that  grade  looking  like  you 
was  trying  to  commit  suicide  and  was  smiling  still 


30          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

when  you  pulled  up  at  the  post-office.  By  gracious, 
I—" 

Luck  gave  a  little  chuckle  deep  in  his  throat.  "  I 
did  all  that  smiling  the  day  before  I  drove  off  the 
grade,"  he  confessed,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  I  don't  guess  I'd  have  smiled  quite  so  sweet,  mayhe, 
if  I'd  waited." 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  make  moving  pictures,  hind- 
side-foremost  ?  "  Andy,  his  back  to  the  table,  lifted 
himself  over  the  rim  to  a  comfortable  seat  and  began 
to  make  himself  a  cigarette. 

"Yes,  or  both  ways  from  the  middle,  just  as  it 
happens."  Luck  was  always  ready  to  talk  pictures. 
"  In  that  stage-driver  picture  I  made  all  the  scenes 
before  I  made  that  drive, —  for  two  reasons.  Big- 
gest one  was  that  I  wanted  to  be  sure  of  having  it  all 
made,  in  case  something  went  wrong  on  that  feature 
drive;  get  me?  Other  was  plain,  human  bullhead- 
edness.  Some  of  the  four-flushers  I  was  cursed  with 
.  in  the  company, —  because  they  were  cheap  and  I 
1  had  to  balance  up  what  I  was  paying  the  Injuns, — 
they  kept  eyeing  that  bluff  where  I  said  I'd  come 
down  with  the  coach,  and  betting  I  wouldn't,  and 
talking  off  in  corners  about  me  just  stalling.  I  just 
let  'em  sweat.  I  made  the  start,  and  I  made  the  fin- 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  31 

ish.  I  drove  right  to  where  I  looked  down  off  the 
pinnacle  —  remember  ?  —  and  saw  the  outlaw  gang 
at  the  foot  of  the  grade ;  I  made  all  the  '  dissolves,' 
and  where  I  went  back  and  captured  'em  and  brought 
'em  in  to  camp.  But  I  didn't  drive  off  the  grade 
into  the  gulch  till  last  thing,  as  luck  would  have  it. 
Good  thing,  too.  That  old  coach  was  sure  some 
busted,  and  I  wasn't  doing  any  more  smiles  till  I 
grew  some  hide." 

Andy  Green  licked  his  cigarette  and  let  his  honest 
gray  eyes  wander  from  Luck  to  the  darkly  handsome 
face  of  the  Native  Son.  "  Sounds  most  as  exciting 
as  holding  down  a  homestead,  anyway.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Mig  ?  And  say !  It's  sure  a  pity  we  can't, 
put  off  some  things  in  real  life  till  we  get  all  set  and 
ready  to  handle  'em !  " 

"  That's  right."  Luck's  face  sobered  as  the  idea 
caught  his  imagination.  "  That's  dead  right ;  how 
well  I  know  it !  " 

Andy  smoked  and  swung  his  feet  and  regarded 
Luck  with  interest.  "  It's  against  my  religious  prin- 
ciples to  go  poking  my  nose  into  the  other  fellow's 
business,"  he  said  after  a  minute,  "  but  I'm  wonder- 
ing if  there's  anything  in  this  God-forsaken  country 
to  bring  a  fellow  like  you  here  deliberate.  I'm  won- 


32          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

dering  if  you  meant  to  stop,  or  if  you  just  leaned 
too  far  out  the  car  window  on  your  way  through 
town." 

For  a  half  minute  Luck  looked  up  at  him.  He 
had  expected  a  preparatory  winning  of  the  confidence 
of  the  men  whom  he  sought.  He  had  planned  to  lead 
up  gradually  to  his  mission,  in  case  he  found  his 
men.  But  in  that  half  minute  he  threw  aside  his 
plan  as  a  weak,  puerile  wasting  of  time,  and  he  an- 
swered Andy  Green  truthfully. 

"  No,  I  didn't  fall  off  the  train,"  he  drawled.  "  I 
just  grabbed  my  grip  and  beat  it  when  they  told  me 
where  I  was.  I'm  out  on  a  still  hunt  for  some  real 
boys.  Some  that  can  ride  and  shoot  and  that  know 
cow-science  so  well  they  don't  have  to  glad  up  in 
cowboy  clothes  and  tie  red  bandanna  bibs  on  to  make 
folks  think  they're  range  broke." 

"  And  yet  you're  wasting  time  in  this  tame  little 
granger  wart  on  the  map !  " 

"  No,  not  wasting  time,"  smiled  Luck  serenely. 
"  A  little  old  trunk-juggler  up  the  trail  told  me  about 
the  Flying  U  outfit  that  is  still  sending  their  wagons 
out  when  the  grass  gets  green.  I  stopped  off  to  give 
the  high-sign  to  the  boys^  and  say  howdy,  and  swap 
yarns,  and  maybe  haze  some  of  'em  gently  into  camp. 


5VHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  33 

I  wanted  to  see  if  the  Flying  U  has  got  any  real  ones 
left." 

Andy  Green  looked  eloquently  at  the  Native  Son. 
"  Now,  what  do  you  know  about  that,  Mig  ? "  he 
breathed  softly  behind  a  mouthful  of  smoke. 
"  Wanting  to  rope  him  out  a  few  from  the  Flying  U 
bunch.  Say!  Have  you  got  a  real  puncher 
amongst  that  outfit  of  long-haired  hayseeds  ?  " 

The  Native  Son  shook  his  head  negligently  and 
gave  Luck  a  velvet-eyed  glance  of  friendly  pity. 

"  If  there  is,  he's  ranging  deep  in  the  breaks  and 
never  shows  up  at  shipping  time,"  he  averred. 
"  I've  never  seen  one  myself.  They've  got  one  that 
—  what  would  you  call  Big  Medicine,  if  you  wanted 
to  name  him  quick  and  easy,  Andy  ?  " 

Andy  frowned.  "  What  I'd  call  him  had  best 
not  be  named  in  this  God-fearing  little  hamlet,"  he 
responded  gloomily.  "  I  sure  would  never  name 
him  in  the  day  I  talked  about  cow-punchers  that's 
ever  dug  sand  outa  their  eyes  on  trail-herd." 

The  Native  Son,  still  with  the  velvet-eyed  look  of 
pity,  turned  to  Luck.  "Andy's  right,"  he  sighed. 
"  They've  got  one  that  takes  spells  of  talking  deliri- 
ously about  when  he  punched  cows  in  Coconino 
County;  but  I  guess  there's  nothing  to  it." 


34,          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  You  say  you  was  told  that  the  Flying  U  outfit 
has  got  some  real  ones  ? "  Andy  eyed  Luck  curi- 
ously and  with  some  of  the  Native  Son's  pity. 
"  Just  in  a  general  way,  what  happens  to  folks  that 
lie  to  you  deliberate,  when  you  meet  'em  again? 
I'd  like,"  he  added,  "  to  know  about  how  sorry  to 
feel  for  that  baggage  humper  when  you  see  him  — 
after  meeting  the  Flying  U  bunch." 

The  soul  of  Luck  Lindsay  was  singing  an  im- 
promptu doxology,  but  the  face  of  him  —  so  well 
was  that  face  trained  to  do  his  bidding  —  became 
tinged  with  disgust  and  disappointment.  With  two 
"  real  boys  "  he  was  talking ;  he  knew  them  by  the 
unconscious  range  vernacular  and  the  perfect  can- 
dor with  which  they  lied  to  him  about  themselves. 
But  not  so  much  as  a  gleam  of  the  eye  betrayed  to 
them  that  he  knew. 

"  So  that's  why  he  went  off  grinning  so  wide,"  he 
mused  aloud.     "  I  was  sure  caught  then  with  my  gun 
at  home  on  the  piano.     I  might  have  known  better' 
than  to  look  for  the  real  thing  here,  though  you  f el- , 
lows  have  a  few  little  marks  that  haven't  worn  off 
yet." 

"  Me  ?  Why,  I'm  a  farmer,  and  I'm  married, 
and  I'm  in  a  deuce  of  a  stew  because  my  spuds  is  dry- 


WHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  35 

ing  up  on  me  and  no  way  to  get  water  on  'em  without 
I  carry  it  to  'em  in  a  jug,"  disclaimed  Andy  Green 
hastily.  "  All  I  know  about  punchers  I  learned 
from  seeing  picture  shows  when  I  go  to  town.  Now, 
Mig,  here — " 

"  Oh,  don't  go  and  reveal  all  of  my  guilty  past," 
protested  the  Native  Son.  "  Those  three  days  I 
spent  at  a  wild-west  carnival  show  have  about 
worked  outa  my  system.  I'm  still  trying  to  wear 
out  the  clothes  I  won  off  some  of  the  boys  in  a  crap 
game,"  he  explained  to  Luck  apologetically,  "but 
my  earmarks  won't  outlast  the  clothes,  believe  me." 

Luck  thoughtfully  flicked  the  ash  collar  off  his 
cigar.  "  It  won't  be  any  use  then  to  go  out  to  the 
Flying  U,  I  suppose,"  he  observed  tentatively,  his 
eyes  keen  for  their  changing  expressions.  "  I  may 
as  well  take  the  next  train  out,  I  reckon,  and  drift 
on  down  into  Arizona  and  New  Mexico.  I  know 
about  where  some  real  punchers  range  —  but  I 
thought  there  was  no  harm  in  looking  up  the  pedi- 
gree of  this  Flying  U  outfit.  I'm  sure  some  obliged 
to  you  boys  for  heading  me  off."  Back  of  his  eyes 
there  was  a  laugh,  but  Andy  Green  and  the  Native 
Son  were  looking  queerly  at  each  other  and  did  not 
see  it  there. 


36 

"  Oh,  well,  now  you're  this  close,  you  wouldn't  be 
losing  anything  by  going  on  out  to  the  ranch,  any- 
way," Andy  recanted  guardedly.  "  Come  to  think 
of  it,  there's  one  regular  old-time  ranger  out  there. 
They  call  him  Slim.  He's  sure  a  devil  on  a  horse 
—  Slim  is.  I'd  forgot  about  him  when  I  spoke. 
He's  a  ranger,  all  right." 

Luck  knew  very  well  that  Andy  Green  had  used 
the  word  "  ranger  "  with  the  deliberate  attempt  to 
appear  ignorant  of  the  terminology  of  the  range.  A 
cow-puncher  comes  a  long  way  from  being  a  ranger, 
as  every  one  knows.  A  ranger  is  a  man  of  another 
profession  entirely. 

"  It  used  to  be  a  real  cattle  ranch,  they  tell  me," 
added  the  Native  Son  artfully.  "  We  live  out  near 
there,  and  if  you  wanted  to  ride  out  — " 

Luck  appeared  undecided.  He  sucked  at  his 
cigar,  and  he  blew  out  the  smoke  thoughtfully,  and 
contemplated  the  toe  of  one  neat,  tan  shoe.  Just 
plain  acting,  it  was ;  just  a  playing  of  his  part  in  the 
little  game  they  had  started.  Better  than  if  they 
had  boasted  of  their  range  knowledge  and  their  prow- 
ess in  the  saddle  did  Luck  know  that  the  dried  little 
man  had  told  him  the  truth.  He  knew  that  at  the 
Flying  U  he  would  find  a  remnant  of  the  old  order 


iWHERE  THE  CATTLE  ROAMED  37 

of  things.  He  would  find  some  real  boys,  if  these 
two  were  a  fair  sample  of  the  bunch.  That  they  lied 
to  him  about  themselves  and  their  fellows  was  but  a 
sign  that  they  accepted  him  as  one  of  their  breed. 
He  looked  them  over  with  gladdened  eyes.  He  lis- 
tened to  the  unconscious  tang  of  the  range  that  was 
in  their  talk.  These  two  farmers?  He  could  have 
laughed  aloud  at  the  idea. 

"  Well,  I  might  get  some  atmosphere  ideas,"  he 
said  at  last.  "  If  you  don't  mind  having  me  trail 
along  — " 

"  Glad  to  have  yuh !  "  came  an  instant  duet. 

"  And  if  I  can  scare  up  a  horse  — ' 

"  Oh,  we'll  look  after  that.  You  can  come  right 
on  out  with  us.  The  boys'll  be  plumb  tickled  to 
death  to  meet  you." 

"  Are  they  all  farmers,  same  as  you  —  these  boys 
you  mention  ? "  Luck  looked  up  into  Andy's  eyes 
when  he  asked  the  question. 

Andy  grinned.  "  Farmers,  yes  —  same  as  us !  " 
/he  said  ambiguously  and  picked  up  his  gloves  as  ho 
turned  to  lead  the  way  out. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

AND    THEY    SIGH    FOR   THE   DAYS    THAT   ARE    QOlfB 

JUST  when  Luck's  new  acquaintances  first  for- 
got to  carry  on  their  whimsical  pretense  of 
knowing  little  of  range  matters,  neither  of  them 
could  have  told  afterwards.  They  left  town  with  the 
tacit  understanding  between  them  that  they  were 
going  to  have  some  fun  with  the  Happy  Family 
and  with  this  likable  little  man  of  the  movies. 
They  rodfe  out  between  long  lines  of  hated  barbed 
wire  stretched  taut,  and  they  lied  systematically  and 
consistently  to  Luck  Lindsay  about  themselves  and 
their  fellows  and  their  particular  condition  of  servi- 
tude to  fate. 

But  somewhere  along  the  trail  they  forgot  to  carry 
on  the  deception ;  and  only  Luck  could  have  told  why 
they  forgot,  and  when  they  forgot,  and  how  it  was 
that,  ten  miles  or  so  out  from  town,  the  two  were  tell- 
ing how  the  Flying  U  had  fought  to  save  itself  from 
extinction ;  how  the  "  bunch "  had  schemed  and 


THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE    39 

worked  and  had  in  a  measure  succeeded  in  turning 
aside  the  tide  of  immigration  from  the  Hying  U 
range.  Big  issues  they  talked  of  as  they  rode  three 
abreast  through  the  warm  haze  of  early  fall ;  and  as 
they  talked,  Luck's  mind  visioned  the  tale  vividly, 
and  his  eyes  swept  the  fence-checkered  upland  with 
a  sympathetic  understanding. 

"  Right  here,"  said  Andy  at  last,  when  they  came 
up  to  a  gate  set  across  the  trail,  "  right  here  is  where 
we  drawed  the  line  —  and  held  it.  Now,  half  of 
those  shacks  you  see  speckled  around  are  empty. 
The  rest  hold  nesters  too  poor  to  get  outa  the  coun- 
try. One  or  two,  that  had  a  little  money,  have  stuck 
and  gone  into  sheep.  But  from  here  on  to  Dry  Creek 
there's  nothing  ranging  but  the  Flying  II  brand. 
!N"ot  much  —  compared  to  what  the  old  range  used  to 
be  —  but  still  it  keeps  things  going.  We  throwed  a 
dam  across  the  coulee,  up  there  next  the  hills,  and 
there's  some  fair  hay  land  we're  putting  water  on. 
We  have  to  winter-feed  practically  everything  these 
days.  The  range  just  nicely  keeps  the  stock  from 
snow  to  snow.  I've  got  pitchfork  callouses  on  my 
hands  I  never  will  outgrow  if  I  was  to  fall  heir  to  a 
billion  dollars  and  never  use  my  hands  again  for 
fifty  years  except  to  feed  myself.  It  takes  work,  be- 


40          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

lieve  me!  And  if  there's  anything  on  earth  a 
puncher  hates  worse  than  work,  it's  some  other  kind 
of  work. 

"  At  the  Flying  U,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  Luck 
pensively,  "  you'll  see  the  effect  of  too  many  people 
moved  into  the  range  country.  If  there's  anything 
more  distressing  than  a  bahy  left  without  a  mother, 
it's  a  bunch  of  cow-punchers  that's  outlived  their 
*ange.  Ain't  that  right  ?  " 

"  Sure  it's  right !  "  Luck's  sympathy  was  abso- 
lutely sincere,  "  How  well  I  know  it !  Barbed 
wire  scraped  me  outa  the  saddle  in  Wyoming  — 
barbed  wire  and  sheep.  All  there  is  left  for  a  fellow 
is  to  forget  it  and  start  a  barber  shop  or  a  cigar  stand, 
or  else  make  pictures  of  the  old  days,  the  way  I've 
been  doing.  You  can  get  a  little  fun  out  of  making 
pictures  of  what  used  to  bo  your  everyday  life.  You 
can  step  up  on  a  horse  and  go  whoopin'  over  the  hills 
and  kinda  forget  it  ain't  true."  A  wistfulness  was 
in  Luck's  tone.  "  You  pick  out  the  big  minutes  from 
the  old  days  —  that  had  a  whole  lot  of  dust  and  sun 
and  thirst  and  hunger  in  between,  when  all's  said  — 
you  pick  out  the  big  minutes,  and  you  bring  them  to 
life  again,  and  sort  of  push  them  up  close  together 
and  leave  out  most  of  the  hardships.  That's  why  so 


many  of  the  old  boys  drift  into  pictures,  I  reckon. 
They  try  to  forget  themselves  in  the  big  minutes." 

The  two  who  rode  with  him  were  silent  for  a  space. 
Then  the  Native  Son  spoke  drily :  "  About  the  big- 
gest minutes  we  get  now  come  about  meal  times." 

"  Oh,  we  can  get  down  in  the  breaks  on  round-up 
time  and  kinda  forget  the  world's  fenced  clear  'way 
round  it  with  barb-wire,"  Andy  bettered  the  state- 
ment. "  But  round-up  gets  shorter  every  year." 

"  My  next  picture,"  Luck  observed  artfully  and 
yet  with  a  genuine  desire  to  unbosom  himself  a  little 
to  these  two  who  would  understand,  "  my  next  pic- 
ture is  going  to  be  different.  It's  going  to  have  a 
crackajack  story  in  it,  of  course,  but  it  will  have 
something  more  than  a  story.  I'm  going  to  start  it 
off  with  a  trail  herd  coming  up  from  Texas.  You 
know  —  like  it  was  when  we  were  kids.  I'm  going  to 
show  those  cattle  trailing  along  tired  —  and  footsore, 
some  of  them  —  and  a  drag  strung  out  behind  for  a 
mile.  I'm  going  to  show  the  punchers  tired  and  hun- 
gry, and  riding  half  asleep  in  the  saddle.  And  with 
that  for  a  starter,  I'm  going  to  show  the  real  range; 
the  real  range  —  get  that,  boys?  I'm  going  to  cut 
clean  away  from  regulation  moving-picture  West; 
clear  out  away  from  posses  chasing  outlaws  all  over  a 


42          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ten-acre  location.  I'm  going  to  find  me  a  real  old 
cow-ranch ;  or  if  I  can't  find  one,  by  thunder  I'm  go- 
ing to  make  me  one.  I'm  sick  of  piling  into  a  ma- 
chine and  driving  out  into  Griffith  Park  and  hunting 
a  location  for  shooting  scrapes  to  take  place  in.  I 
know  a  place  where  I  could  produce  stuff  that  would 
make  people  talk  about  it  for  a  month  after.  Maybe 
the  buildings  would  need  some  doctoring,  but  there's 
sure  some  round-pole  corrals  that  would  make  your 
mouth  water." 

"  We  used  to  have  some,"  sighed  Andy,  "  at  the 
Flying  U.  But  they  kinda  went  to  pieces,  and 
Chip's  been  replacing  them  with  plank.  By  gra- 
cious, you  don't  see  many  round-pole  corrals  any 
more,  come  to  think  of  it.  There's  remains,  scat- 
tered around  over  the  country." 

"  The  West  —  the  real  honest-to-goodness,  twelve- 
months-in-the-year  West,"  Luck  went  on  riding  his 
hobby,  "  has  been  mighty  little  used  in  films.  Ever 
notice  that?  It's  all  gone  to  shooting,  and  stealing 
the  full  product  of  all  the  gold  mines  in  the  world, 
and  killing  off  more  bad  men  than  the  Lord  ever  sent 
a  flood  to  punish.  For  film  purposes,  the  West  con- 
sists of  one  part  beautiful  maiden  in  distress,  three 
parts  bandit,  and  two  parts  hero.  Mix  these  to  taste 


THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE     43 

with  plenty  of  swift  action  and  gun-smoke,  and  serve 
with  bandits  all  dead  or  handcuffed  and  beautiful 
maiden  and  hero  in  lover's  embrace  on  top.  That's 
your  film  West,  boys  —  and  how  well  I  know  it !  " 
Luck  stopped  to  light  a  cigarette  and  to  heave  a  sigh. 
"  I've  been  building  film  West  to  order  for  four 
years  now,  and  more.  Only  fun  I've  had,  and  the 
best  work  I've  done,  I  did  with  a  bunch  of  Indians 
I've  just  taken  back  to  their  reservation.  For  the 
rest,  it's  mostly  bunk." 

"  ISTot  that  stage-driver  picture,"  Andy  dissented. 
"  There  wasn't  any  bunk  about  that,  old-timer. 
That  was  some  driving !  " 

"  Some  driving,  yes.  Sure,  it  was.  It  was  darned 
good  driving,  but  the  same  old  story  doctored  up  a  lit- 
tle. Same  old  shipment  of  gold,  same  old  bandits 
lying  in  wait,  same  old  hero  doing  stunts.  I  ought 
to  know,"  he  added  with  a  grin.  "  I  wrote  the  story 
and  did  the  stunts  myself." 

"  Well,  they  were  some  stunts !  "  admired  Andy 
with  unusual  sincerity. 

Luck  waved  aside  the  compliment  and  went  back 
to  his  hobby.  "  Yes,  but  the  West  isn't  just  a  set- 
ting for  stunts.  I've  got  my  story  —  here,"  and  he 
tapped  his  forehead,  which  was  broad  and  full  and 


44          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

not  too  high.  "  I'm  going  to  fire  my  camera  man 
and  get  a  better  one,  and  I'm  going  to  round  me  up  a 
bunch  of  real  boys  that  can  get  into  the  story  and  live 
it  so  well  they  won't  need  to  do  any  acting, —  boys 
that  can  stand  a  panoram  on  their  work  in  the  sad- 
dle. I've  been  getting  by  with  a  bunch  of  freaks 
that  think  they're  real  riders  if  they  can  lope  a  horse 
up-grade  without  falling  off  backwards.  Most  of  my 
direction  of  those  actorines  has  been  knowing  to  a 
hair  how  much  footage  to  give  'em  without  showing 
how  raw  their  work  is. 

"  They  say  the  public  demands  a  certain  grade  of 
rottenness  in  Western  films,  but  I  never  believed  that, 
down  deep  in  my  heart.  I  believe  the  public  stands 
for  that  stuff  because  they  don't  see  any  better. 
This  four-reeler  I've  got  in  mind  will  sure  open  the 
eyes  of  some  producers  —  or  I'll  buy  me  a  five-acre 
tract  in  Burbank  and  raise  string  beans  for  a  living." 

"  I've  got  a  patch  of  string  beans,"  sighed  the  Na- 
tive Son,  "  that  I've  been  sitting  up  nights  with.  I 
don't  know  what  ails  the  cussed  things.  Some  kind 
of  little  green  bug  chews  on  them  soon  as  my  back  is 
turned.  They  ought  to  be  ripe  by  now  —  and  they 
aren't  through  blossoming.  Don't  go  into  beans, 
amigo." 


THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE     45 

Luck  looked  at  him  and  laughed.  The  Native 
Son,  in  black  and  white  Angora  chaps  and  cream- 
colored  shirt  and  silver-filigreed  hatband  as  orna- 
mental touches  to  his  attire,  did  not  look  like  a  man 
who  was  greatly  worried  over  his  crop  of  string  beans 
while  he  rode  with  a  negligent  grace  away  from  a 
glowing  sunset.  But  in  these  days  the  West  is  full 
of  incongruities. 

"  Oh,  shut  up  about  them  beans !  "  implored  Andy 
Green  with  a  bored  air.  "  It's  water  they  want ; 
and  a  touch  of  the  hoe  now  and  then.  You  leave  'em 
for  a  month  at  a  time  and  then  go  back  and  wonder 
why  you  can't  pick  a  hatful  off  'em.  Same  as  the 
rest  of  us  have  been  ranching,"  he  added  ruefully, 
turning  to  Luck.  "  With  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world,  the  Lord  never  meant  us  fellers  for  farmers, 
and  that's  a  fact.  We'll  drop  a  hoe  any  time  of  day 
or  night  to  get  out  riding  after  stock.  Of  course,  we 
didn't  take  tip  our  claims  with  the  idea  of  settling 
down  and  riding  a  hoe  handle  the  rest  of  our  lives. 
If  we  had,  I  guess  maybe  we'd  have  done  a  little  bet- 
ter at  it." 

"  We  did  what  we  started  out  to  do,"  the  Native 
Son  pointed  out  lazily.  "We  saved  the  range  — 
what  little  there  is  to  save  —  and  we  kept  a  lot  of 


46          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

poor  yaps  from  starving  to  death  on  that  land,  didn't 
we  ?  "  He  smiled  slowly.  "  If  I  hadn't  gotten  gay 
and  planted  those  beans,"  he  added,  "  I'd  be  feeling 
fine  over  it.  A  girl  gave  me  a  handful  of  pinto  beans 
and  asked  me  to  plant  them  —  I  did  hoe  them,"  he 
defended  tardily  to  Andy.  "  I  hoed  them  the  day 
before  the  Fourth.  You  know  I  did.  Same  time 
you  hoed  those  lemon-colored  spuds  of  yours." 

Luck  let  them  wrangle  humorously  over  their  agri- 
cultural deficiencies,  and  drifted  off  into  open-eyed 
dreaming.  Into  his  picture  he  began  to  fit  these  two 
speculatively,  with  a  purely  tentative  adjustment  of 
their  personalities  to  his  requirements.  They  were 
arguing  about  which  of  the  two  was  the  worst  farmer ; 
but  Luck,  riding  alongside  them,  was  seeing  them 
slouched  in  their  saddles  and  riding,  bone-tired,  with 
a  shuffling  trail-herd  hurrying  to  the  next  watering 
place.  He  was  seeing  them  galloping  hard  on  the 
flanks  of  a  storm-lashed  stampede,  with  cunningly 
placed  radium  flares  lighting  the  scene  brilliantly 
;now  and  then.  He  was  seeing  these  two  plodding, 
heads  bent,  into  the  teeth  of  a  blizzard.  He  was  see- 
ing ... 

"  I'll  have  to  ride  home  to  the  missus  now,"  Andy 
announced  the  second  time  before  Luck  heard  him. 


THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE     47 

"  Mig  will  take  you  on  down  to  the  home  ranch,  and 
after  supper  I'll  ride  over.  So  long." 

He  swung  away  from  them  upon  a  faintly  beaten 
trail,  looked  back  once  to  grin  and  wave  his  hand, 
and  touched  his  horse  with  the  spurs.  Luck  stared 
after  him  thoughtfully,  but  he  did  not  put  his 
thoughts  into  words.  He  had  been  trained  in  the 
hard  school  of  pictures.  He  had  learned  to  hold  his 
tongue  upon  certain  matters,  such  as  his  opinion  of 
a  man's  personal  attributes,  or  criticism  of  his  ap- 
pearance, or  anything  which  might  be  repeated,  ma- 
liciously or  otherwise,  to  that  man.  He  did  not  say 
to  Miguel  Eapponi,  for  instance,  what  he  thought  of 
Andy  Green  as  a  man  or  a  rider.  He  did  not  men- 
tion him  at  all.  He  had  learned  in  bitterness  how 
idle  gossip  may  eat  away  the  efficiency  of  a  whole 
company. 

For  that  reason,  and  also  because  his  mind  was 
busy  with  his  plans  and  the  best  means  of  carrying 
them  out,  the  two  rode  almost  in  silence  to  the  hill 
that  shut  the  Hying  U  coulee  away  from  the  world. 
Luck  gave  a  long  sigh  and  muttered  "  Great !  "  when 
the  whole  coulee  lay  spread  before  them.  Then  his 
quick  glances  took  in  various  details  of  the  ranch  and 
he  sighed  again,  from  a  different  emotion. 


48          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  It  must  have  been  a  great  place  twenty  years 
ago,"  he  amended  his  first  unqualified  enthusiasm. 

"  Why  twenty  years  ago  ?  "  The  Native  Son  gave 
him  a  quick,  half-resentful  glance. 

"  Twenty  years  ago  there  wasn't  so  much  barb- 
wire  trimming/7  Luck  explained  from  the  viewpoint 
of  the  trained  producer  of  Western  pictures.  "  You 
couldn't  place  a  camera  anywhere  now  for  a  long 
shot  across  the  coulee  without  bringing  a  fence  into 
the  scene.  And  the  log  stables  are  too  old,  and  the 
new  ones  too  new."  He  pulled  up  and  stared  long  at 
the  sweep  of  hills  beyond,  and  the  wide  spread  of  the 
meadow  and  the  big  field  farther  up  stream,  and  at 
the  lazy  meandering  of  Flying  TJ  creek  with  its  wil- 
low fringe  just  turning  yellow  with  the  first  touch  of 
autumn.  He  looked  at  the  buildings  sprawled  out 
below  him. 

"  When  that  log  house  was  headquarters  for  the 
ranch,  and  the  round-pole  corrals  were  the  only, 
fences  on  the  place,"  he  said ;  "  when  those  old  sheds 
held  the  saddle  horses  on  cold  nights,  and  the  wagons 
were  out  from  green  grass  to  snowfall,  and  the  boys 
laid  around  all  winter,  just  reportin'  regular  at  grub- 
pile  and  catching  up  on  sleep  they'd  lost  in  the  sum- 
mer —  Lor-dee,  what  a  place  it  must  have  been !  " 


THE  DAYS  THAT  ARE  GONE     49 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  that  brought  the 
Native  Son  for  an  instant  face  to  face  with  the  Fly- 
ing U  in  the  old  days  when  all  the  range  was  free. 
So,  with  faces  sober,  because  the  old  days  were  gone 
and  would  never  any  more  return,  they  rode  down 
the  grade  and  up  to  the  new  stable  that  was  a  monu- 
ment to  the  dead  past,  even  though  it  might  also  be 
a  sign-post  pointing  to  present  prosperity.  And  in 
this  wise  came  Luck  Lindsay  to  the  Flying  U  and 
was  made  welcome. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

THE    LITTLE   DOCTOR   PBOTESTS 

f  |l±iJi  Little  Doctor  stepped  out  upon  the  porch 
JL  with  the  faint  tracing  of  a  frown  upon  her 
smooth  forehead,  and  with  that  slight  tightening  of 
the  lips  which  to  her  family  meant  determination; 
disapproval  sometimes,  tense  moments  always. 

She  stood  for  a  minute  looking  down  toward  the 
stables,  and  the  wind  that  blew  down  the  coulee  seized 
upon  the  scant  folds  of  her  skirt,  and  flapped  them 
impishly  against  the  silken-clad  ankles  that  were  ex- 
ceedingly good  to  look  upon, —  since  fashion  has  now 
made  it  quite  permissible  to  look  upon  ankles.  Her 
lips  did  not  relax  with  the  waiting.  Her  frown  grew 
a  trifle  more  pronounced. 

"  Mr.  Lindsay  ?  "  with  a  rising  inflection. 

Luck  turned  his  head,  saw  her  standing  there, 
waved  his  hand  to  show  that  he  heard,  and  started 
toward  her  with  that  brisk,  purposeful  swing  to  his 
walk  that  goes  with  an  energetic  disposition.  The 
Little  Doctor  waited,  and  watched  him,  and  did  not 


LITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     51 

relax  a  muscle  from  her  determined  attitude.     Poor 

little  Luck  Lindsay  hurried,  so  as  not  to  keep  her 

standing  there  in  the  wind,  and,  not  knowing  just 

Jwhat  was  before  him,  he  smiled  his  smile  as  he  came 

'up  to  her. 

I  should  have  said,  poor  Little  Doctor.  She  tried 
to  keep  her  frown  and  the  fixed  idea  that  went  with 
it,  but  she  was  foolish  enough  to  look  down  into 
Luck's  face  and  into  his  eyes  with  their  sunny  friend- 
liness, and  at  the  smile,  where  the  friendliness  was 
repeated  and  emphasized.  Before  she  quite  knew 
what  she  was  doing,  the  Little  Doctor  smiled  back. 
Still,  she  owned  a  fine  quality  of  firmness. 

"  Come  in  here.  I  want  to  have  it  out  with  you, 
and  be  done,"  she  said,  and  turned  to  open  the  door. 

"  Sounds  bad,  but  I'm  yours  to  command,"  Luck 
retorted  cheerfully,  and  went  up  the  steps  still  smil- 
ing. He  liked  the  Little  Doctor.  She  was  his  kind 
of  woman.  He  felt  that  she  would  make  a  good  pal, 
and  he  knew  how  few  women  are  qualified  for  open 
comradeship.  He  cast  a  side  glance  at  the  kitchen 
window  where  the  Kid  stood  with  a  large  slice  of 
bread  and  chokecherry  jam  balanced  on  his  palm,  and 
on  his  face  a  look  of  mental  distress  bordered  with 
more  jam.  Luck  nodded  and  waved  his  hand,  and 


52          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

went  in  where  the  Little  Doctor  stood  waiting  for 
him  with  a  certain  ominous  quiet  in  her  manner. 
Luck  shook  back  his  heavy  mane  of  hair  that  was 
graying  prematurely,  squared  his  shoulders,  and  then 
held  out  his  hand  meekly,  palm  upward.  Boys  learn 
that  pose  in  school,  you  know. 

"  Oh,  for  pity's  sake !  If  you  go  and  make  me 
laugh  —  and  I  am  mad  enough  at  you,  Luck  Lindsay, 
to  —  to  blister  that  palm !  If  you  weren't  any  big- 
ger than  Claude,  I'd  shake  you  and  stand  you  in  a 
corner  on  one  foot." 

"  Listen.  Shake  me,  anyway.  I  believe  I'd 
kinda  like  it.  And  while  I'm  standing  in  the  corner 
—  on  one  foot  —  you  can  tell  me  all  you're  mad  at 
me  for." 

The  Little  Doctor  looked  at  him,  bit  her  lip,  and 
then  found  that  her  eyes  were  blurred  so  that  his  face 
seemed  to  waver  and  grow  dim.  And  Luck  Lindsay, 
because  he  saw  the  tears,  laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
and  pushed  her  ever  so  gently  into  a  chair. 

"  Tell  me  what's  worrying  you.  If  it's  anything 
that  I  have  done,  I'll  have  one  of  the  boys  take  me  out 
and  shoot  me ;  it's  what  I  would  deserve.  But  I  cer- 
tainly can't  think  of  anything  — " 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  have  filled  little  Claude's 


LITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     53 

mind  up  with  stories  about  moving  pictures  till  he's 
just  crazy?  He  told  me  just  now  that  he's  going 
with  you  when  you  go  back,  and  act  in  your  company. 
And  if  I  won't  let  him  go,  he  said,  he'd  run  away  and 
'  hit  a  freight-train  outa  Dry  Lake,'  and  get  to  Cali- 
fornia, anyway.  And  —  he'd  do  it,  too !  He's  per- 
fectly awful  when  he  gets  an  idea  in  his  head.  I 
know  he's  spoiled  —  all  the  boys  pet  him  so  — " 

"Wait.  Let's  get  this  thing  straight.  Do  you 
think  for  one  minute,  Mrs.  Bennett,  that  I'd  coax  the 
Kid  away?  Say,  that  hurts  —  to  have  you  believe 
that  of  me."  There  was  no  smile  anywhere  on 
Luck's  face  now.  His  eyes  were  as  pained  as  his 
voice  sounded. 

Once  more  the  Little  Doctor  weakened  before  him. 
She  believed  what  he  said,  though  five  minutes  before 
she  had  believed  exactly  the  opposite.  In  her  mind 
she  had  accused  him  of  coaxing  the  Kid.  She  had 
fully  intended  accusing  him  of  it  to  his  face. 

"  I  don't  mean  coax,  perhaps.     But  — " 

u  Listen.  If  the  Kid  has  got  that  notion,  I'm 
more  sorry  than  you  can  guess.  Of  course,  I  think 
pictures  and  I  talk  pictures ;  I  admit  I  make  them  in 
my  sleep.  And  the  boys  are  interested.  Those  that 
are  going  back  with  me  and  those  that  are  not  are 


54          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

always  sicking  me  at  the  subject.  I  admit  that  I 
sick  easy,"  he  added  with  a  whimsical  lightening  of 
the  eyes.  "And  the  Kid  and  I  are  pals.  I  like 
him,  Mrs.  Bennett.  He's  got  the  stuff  in  him  to 
make  a  real  man  —  and  I  wouldn't  call  him  spoiled, 
exactly.  He's  always  been  with  grown-ups,  and  his 
mind  has  developed  away  ahead  of  the  calendar ;  you 
see  what  I  mean  ?  He's  nine,  he  tells  me  — " 

"  Only  eight.  He  always  tries  to  make  himself 
older  than  he  is,"  the  Little  Doctor  corrected  quickly. 

"  Well,  he's  some  boy !  And  kids  somehow  take 
to  me;  I  guess  it's  because  I'm  always  chumming 
with  them.  He's  been  taking  in  everything  that  has 
been  said;  I  could  see  that.  But  I  surely  never 
talked  to  him  in  the  way  you  mean." 

The  Little  Doctor  looked  at  him  and  hesitated; 
but  she  was  a  frank  young  woman,  and  she  could  not 
help  speaking  her  mind.  "  You  mustn't  take  it  per- 
sonally at  all,"  she  said,  "  if  I  tell  you  that  I  am  dis- 
appointed in  the  boys;  in  Andy  and  Rosemary  es- 
pecially, because  they  ought  to  appreciate  the  little 
home  they  have  made,  and  stay  with  it.  One  sort  of 
expects  Pink  and  Big  Medicine  and  Weary  to  do  out- 
landish things.  They  haven't  really  grown  up,  and 
they  never  will.  But  I  am  disappointed,  just  the 


LITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     55 

same,  that  they  should  want  to  go  performing  around 
and  shooting  blank  cartridges  and  making  clowns  of 
themselves  for  moving  pictures.  Still,  that's  their 
own  business,  of  course,  if  they  want  to  be  silly 
enough  to  do  it.  But  now  little  Claude  has  taken 
the  fever  —  and  I  wish,  Mr.  Lindsay,  you  could  do 
something  to — "  She  stopped,  but  not  because 
what  she  said  was  hurting  Luck's  feelings.  She  did 
not  know  that  she  hurt  him  at  all. 

"  It  seems  to  be  worse,  in  your  estimation,  than 
exposing  the  Kid  to  yellow  fever,"  Luck  observed 
quietly. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  can  understand  that  I  should 
not  want  a  boy  of  mine  to  —  to  be  all  taken  up  with 
the  idea  of  acting  cowboy  parts  for  a  moving  pic- 
ture." 

"  Still,  there  are  some  fairly  decent  people  in  the 
business,"  Luck  pointed  out  still  more  quietly,  and 
got  upon  his  feet.  He  had  no  smile  now  for  the  Lit- 
tle Doctor,  though  he  was  still  gentle  in  his  manner. 
"  I  see  what  you  mean,  Mrs.  Bennett.  I  understand 
you  perfectly.  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  repair  the 
damage  to  the  Kid's  character  and  ideals,  and  I  want 
to  thank  you  for  coming  to  me  in  this  matter.  Other- 
wise I  might  have  gone  against  your  wishes  without 


56          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

knowing  that  I  was  doing  so."  For  two  breaths  or 
three  he  held  her  glance  with  something  that  looked 
out  of  his  eyes ;  the  Little  Doctor  did  not  know  what 
it  was.  "  You  see,  Mrs.  Bennett,  you  don't  quite 
understand  what  you  are  talking  about,"  he  added. 
"  You  have  not  had  the  opportunity  to  understand,  of 
course.  But  I  agree  with  you  that  the  Kid's  place 
is  at  home,  and  I  shall  certainly  have  a  talk  with 
him." 

He  moved  to  the  door,  laid  a  fine,  well-kept  hand 
upon  the  knob,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  faint  smile 
that  had  behind  it  a  good  deal  that  puzzled  the  Little 
Doctor.  "  Don't  worry  one  minute,"  he  said,  drop- 
ping his  punctilious  politeness  of  the  minute  before, 
and  becoming  again  the  intensely  human  Luck  Lind- 
say. "  I  {  heap  sabe.'  I've  certainly  corrupted  the 
morals  and  ambitions  of  some  of  the  boys  —  looking 
at  it  the  way  you  do  —  but  I  promise  to  check  the  dev- 
astation right  where  it's  at,  and  save  your  only  son." 
He  turned  then  and  went  out. 

The  Little  Doctor  paid  him  the  tribute  of  hurry- 
ing to  the  window  where  she  could  watch  him  go  down 
the  path.  In  his  walk,  in  the  set  of  his  head,  there 
was  still  something  that  puzzled  her.  She  hoped  that 
he  was  not  offended,  and  she  thankfully  remembered 


LITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     57 

a  good  deal  that  she  had  left  unsaid.  She  saw  him 
turn  and  beckon,  and  then  wait  until  the  Kid  had 
joined  him  from  the  kitchen.  She  saw  the  greeting 
he  gave  the  Kid,  and  the  adoration  on  the  Kid's  face 
when  he  looked  up  at  Luck.  The  two  went  away  to- 
gether, and  the  Little  Doctor  watched  them  dubi- 
ously. What  if  the  Kid  should  run  away  ?  He  had 
done  it  once,  and  it  was  well  within  the  probabilities 
that  he  might  do  it  again,  if  this  present  obsession  of 
his  were  not  handled  just  right.  The  Kid,  she  had 
long  ago  discovered,  could  not  be  driven, —  and  there 
were  times  when  he  could  not  be  coaxed. 

Luck  had  been  just  three  days  at  the  Flying  U. 
In  those  three  days  he  had  fitted  himself  into  the  place 
so  well  that  even  old  Patsy,  the  cook,  called  him 
"  Look  "  as  easily  as  though  he  had  been  doing  it  for 
years ;  and  Patsy,  you  must  know,  was  fast  acquiring 
the  querulousness  of  an  old  age  that  does  not  sweeten 
with  the  passing  years.  Patsy  had  discovered  that 
Luck  liked  his  eggs  fried  on  both  sides,  and  thereafter 
he  painstakingly  turned' three  eggs  bottomside  up  in 
the  frying  pan  every  morning;  three  and  no  more, 
though  Cal  Emmett  remarked  pointedly  that  he  had 
always  liked  his  eggs  fried  and  flopped. 

Three  days,  and  the  Old  Man  frequently  left  his 


58          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

big,  soft-cushioned  chair,  and  went  slowly  down  to 
the  bunk-house  whence  came  much  laughter,  and  lis- 
tened to  the  stories  that  Luck  told  so  well, —  with  one 
arm  around  the  unashamed  Kid,  very  likely,  while  he 
talked. 

True,  they  had  ranches  of  their  own,  those  boys  of 
the  Flying  U.  But  if  you  wanted  to  find  them  in  a 
hurry,  it  were  wise  to  ride  first  into  Flying  II  coulee. 
That  was  headquarters,  and  that  was  home  and  always 
would  be;  even  Andy  Green,  who  was  happily  mar- 
ried, brought  his  wife  and  stayed  there  days  at  a 
time,  with  small  excuse  for  the  coming. 

In  three  days,  then,  Luck  had  chosen  his  men  from 
among  the  Happy  Family,  and  had  convinced  them 
that  their  future  welfare  and  happiness  depended 
upon  their  going  back  with  him  to  Los  Angeles.  In 
three  days  he  had  accomplished  a  good  deal ;  but  then, 
Luck  was  in  the  habit  of  crowding  his  days  with 
achievement  of  one  sort  or  another.  As  a  matter  of 

tfact,  the  third  day  he  had  looked  upon  as  one  given 

i 

solely  to  the  pleasure  of  staying  at  the  Flying  U  while 
the  boys  completed  their  arrangements  for  leaving 
with  him.  He  had  done  all  that  he  had  planned  to 
do,  and  he  was  in  a  very  good  humor  with  the  world, 
or  he  had  been  until  the  Little  Doctor  had  made  his 


LITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     59 

pride  writhe  under  her  innocent  belittlement  of  his 
vocation.     To  have  her  boy  work  in  pictures  would 
be  a  calamity  in  her  eyes ;  in  Luck's  eyes  it  would  be 
an  honor,  provided  he  did  the  right  kind  of  work  in  < 
the  right  kind  of  pictures. 

Luck's  own  personal  opinion,  however,  did  not 
weigh  in  this  case.  He  had  promised  the  Little  Doc- 
tor that  he  would  erase  the  impression  he  had  made 
upon  the  Kid's  too  vivid  imagination ;  so  he  led  him 
to  a  retired  place  where  they  would  be  sheltered  from 
the  wind  by  a  great  stack  of  alfalfa  hay,  and  he  began 
in  this  wise: 

"  Old-timer,  you're  the  luckiest  boy  I've  seen  in  all 
my  travels, —  growing  up  here  on  the  Flying  U,  with 
a  mother  like  you've  got,  and  a  dad  like  Chip,  and  a 
ranch  like  this  to  get  the  swing  of  while  you're  grow- 
ing; so  that  in  another  five  years  I  expect  you'll  be 
running  it  yourself,  and  your  folks  will  be  larking 
around  having  the  good  time  they've  earned  while 
they  were  raising  you.  I'll  bet  — " 

"  So  Doctor  Dell  went  and  got  around  you,  did  she  ? 
I  knew  that  was  why  she  called  you  into  the  sett'n 
room.  Forget  it,  Luck."  The  Kid  spat  manfully 
into  the  trodden  hay,  and  pushed  his  small-size  Stet- 
son back  so  that  his  curls  showed,  and  set  his  feet  as 


60          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

far  apart  as  was  comfortable.  "  I  knew  she  would," 
he  added  with  weary  wisdom  in  his  tone.  "  Doctor 
Dell  car.  get  around  anybody  when  she  takes  a  no- 
tion." 

Luck  held  his  face  from  smiling.  He  looked  sur- 
prised, and  disappointed  in  the  Kid,  and  sorry  for 
the  Kid's  parents.  At  least,  he  made  the  Kid  feel 
that  he  was  thinking  all  these  things,  which  proves 
how  well  one  may  master  the  art  of  facial  expression. 
He  did  not  say  a  word;  therefore  he  put  the  Kid 
upon  the  defensive  and  set  his  young  wits  to  devising 
arguments  in  his  favor. 

"  A  woman  never  knows  when  a  fellow  begins  to 
grow  up.  Doctor  Dell  is  the  nicest  girl  in  the  world, 
but  she  needn't  think  I'm  a  baby  yet.  I  can  ride  a 
buckin'  horse,  and  I  went  on  round-up  last  spring  — 
and  made  a  hand,  too !  I  can  swing  a  rope  as  good 
as  any  of  the  bunch;  you  seen  me  whirl  a  loop  and 
jump  through  it,  and  there's  more  stunts  than  that  I 
can  do  —  it  was  dinner  time,  so  I  had  to  quit  before 
I  showed  you."  The  Kid  paused.  He  had  not  yet 
produced  any  effect  whatever  upon  that  surprised, 
pitying,  disappointed  look  in  Luck's  face,  and  the 
Kid  began  to  feel  worried. 

"Well,  I  was  just  bluffing  when  I  said  I'd  run 


EITTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     61 

away  —  if  she  told  you  that."  He  stopped ;  the  look 
was  still  there,  only  it  now  seemed  to  have  contempt 
added  to  it.  "  I  don't  say  I  know  more'n  anybody  on 
the  ranch,  and  I  don't  say  I'm  boss  of  the  ranch  yet. 
I  do  what  they  tell  me,  even  when  I  know  there  ain't 
any  sense  in  it.  I  humor  Doctor  Dell  a  whole  lot !  " 
Could  he  never  get  that  look  off  Luck's  face?  The 
Kid  searched  his  soul  anxiously.  You  couldn't  go  on 
arguing  with  that  kind  of  a  look;  it  made  you  feel 
like  you'd  been  stealing  sheep.  "  Oh,  well,  if  you 
won't  talk  to  a  feller — "  The  Kid  did  not  turn 
away  quite  soon  enough  to  hide  the  quiver  of  his  lips. 
Luck  reached  out  and  took  a  small,  grimy  hand  and 
pulled  the  Kid  nearer;  near  enough  so  that  his  arm 
could  go  around  the  Kid's  quivering  body.  He  held 
him  close,  and  the  Kid  did  not  struggle.  He 
dropped  his  face  against  Luck's  shoulder,  and  began 
to  fight  back  his  tears. 

"  Listen,  pardner,"  said  Luck  softly,  one  hand 
caressing  the  Kid's  cheek.  "  You  and  I  ought  to 
sabe  each  other  better  than  most  folks,  because  we're 
pals.  Now,  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  a  heap  more 
than  you  want  to  go;  just  tuck  that  away  in  your 
mind  where  you  won't  lose  it.  I  want  you,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  you  without  Doctor  Dell's  free  and 


62          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

willing  consent.  I  need  you  for  my  pal ;  and  I  could 
teach  you  a  lot  that  would  be  useful  to  you.  But 
they  need  you  a  whole  lot  worse  than  I  do.  They've 

'  been  taking  care  of  you  and  loving  you  and  planning 
for  you  all  these  eight  years,  just  watching  you  grow, 
and  being  proud  of  you  because  you're  what  they 
want  you  to  be:  husky  and  healthy  and  good  all  the 
way  through.  You  couldn't  go  off  and  leave  them 
now;  it  wouldn't  be  right.  And,  pard,  you  need 
them  even  worse  than  they  need  you.  I  know, —  be- 
cause I  had  to  grow  up  without  any  one  to  love  me 
and  look  after  me;  and  believe  me,  old  pal,  it  isn't 
any  cinch.  It's  just  pure  luck  that  I  didn't  get 
killed  off  or  go  bad.  Now,  I'd  be  good  to  you,  if  I 
had  you  with  me,  and  so  would  the  boys;  but  we 
couldn't  take  the  place  of  Doctor  Dell  and  Daddy 
Chip. 

"  I've  talked  pictures  too  much  to  you.     I  didn't 
know  how  it  was  hitting  you,   or  how  much  you 

,  wanted  to  go.  But  listen.  If  I  had  the  chance 
you've  got  here, —  if  I  had  a  ranch  like  this,  and 
cattle,  and  horses,  and  a  father  and  mother  and  uncle 
like  you've  got, —  I  never  would  look  a  camera  in 
the  eye  again  as  long  as  I  live.  That's  straight,  old- 
timer.  Why,  I'm  working  my  head  off  trying  to  get 


tlTTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     63 

enough  ahead  so  that  I  can  have  a  ranch  of  my  own ! 
So  I  can  slap  a  saddle  on  a  horse  that  carries  my 
brand,  and  ride  out  after  my  cattle,  and  haze  them 
into  my  corral;  so  I  can  have  a  home  that  is  mine. 
I  never  did  have  one,  pardner, —  not  since  I  was  a 
heap  smaller  than  you  are  now, —  and  a  home  of  his 
own  is  what  every  man  wants  most,  down  deep  in  his 
heart 

"  It  looks  fine  to  be  traveling  around,  and  making 
moving  pictures.  It  is  fine  if  you  are  cut  out  for. 
that  kind  of  work,  and  have  got  to  be  working  for 
somebody  else  to  get  your  start.  But  remember,, 
pard,  I  am  working  and  scheming  and  planning  to> 
get  just  what  you've  got  already.  You,  a  kid  eight; 
years  old,  stand  right  where  I'd  give  all  I've  got  to* 
stand.  You'll  own  your  own  ranch  and  your  own 
home.  You've  got  folks  that  love  you  —  not  because 
you  hand  out  the  pay  envelope  on  a  certain  day  of 
the  week,  but  because  you  belong  to  them,  and  they 
belong  to  you.  Kid,  I'm  thirty-two  years  old  —  and 
I've  never  known  what  that  felt  like.  I  have  never  ;, 
known  what  it  was  like  to  have  some  one  plan  for 
me  and  with  me,  unless  they  were  paid  for  it." 

The  Kid  stood  very  still.     "  You  could  live  here," 
he  lifted  his  head  to  say  gravely  after  a  little  silence 


64          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

that  was  full  of  thought.  "  This  can  be  your  home. 
You  can  be  one  of  the  Happy  Family.  We'd  like  to 
have  you." 

There  was  something  queer  in  Luck's  voice  when 
he  murmured  a  reply.  There  was  something  in  his 
face  which  no  one  but  the  Kid  had  ever  seen.  The 
Kid's  arm  crept  around  Luck's  neck,  and  tightened 
there  and  stayed.  Luck's  hand  went  up  to  the  curls 
and  hovered  there  caressingly.  And  they  talked,  in 
tones  lowered  to  the  cadence  of  deep-hidden  hopes 
and  longings  revealed  in  sacred  confidence. 

The  Little  Doctor,  shamelessly  eavesdropping  be- 
cause she  was  a  mother  fighting  for  her  fledgling, 
tiptoed  away  from  the  corner  of  the  stack,  and  went 
back  to  the  house,  wiping  her  eyes  frequently  with 
the  corner  of  her  handkerchief  that  was  not  em- 
broidered. She  went  into  her  room  and  stayed  there 
a  long  while,  and  before  she  came  out  she  had  re- 
course to  rosewater  and  talcum  and  other  first  aids 
to  swollen  eyelids. 

Whatever  she  may  have  thought,  whatever  she 
may  have  overheard  beyond  what  has  been  recorded, 
her  manner  toward  Luck  was  so  unobtrusively  tender 
that  Chip  looked  at  her  once  or  twice  with  a  puzzled, 
husbandly  frown.  Also,  the  Kid  felt  something  spe- 


OTTLE  DOCTOR  PROTESTS     65 

cial  in  his  Doctor  Dell's  good-night  kiss;  something 
he  did  not  understand  at  all,  since  he  had  not  yet 
told  her  that  he  was  going  to  be  a  good  boy  and  stay 
at  home  and  take  care  of  her  and  the  ranch. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

A    BUNCH    OF   ONE-EEEUEBS    FROM    BENTLY    BBQWN 

THE  Manager  of  the  Acme  Film  Company 
cleared  his  throat  with  a  rasping  noise  that 
sounded  very  loud,  coming  as  it  did  after  fifteen 
minutes  of  complete  silence.  Luck,  smoking  a  cig- 
arette absent-mindedly  by  the  window  while  he 
stared  out  across  two  vacant  lots  to  a  tawdry  apart- 
ment house, —  and  saw  a  sage-covered  plain  instead 
of  what  was  before  his  eyes, —  started  from  his  day- 
dream and  glanced  at  Martinson  inquiringly. 
"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ? "  he  asked. 

Martinson  cleared  his  throat  again,  and  shuffled 
the  typed  sheets  in  his  hands.  "  Seems  to  lack  ac- 
tion, don't  it  ? "  he  hazarded  reluctantly.  "  Of 
course,  this  is  a  rough  draft;  I  realize  that  I  sup- 
pose you'll  strengthen  up  the  plot,  later  on.  Chance 
for  some  good  cattle-stealing  complications,  I  should 
think.  But  I'd  boil  it  down  to  two  reels,  Luck,  if 
I  were  you.  There's  a  lot  of  atmosphere  you 
(couldn't  get,  anyway  — " 


&  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     67 

"  I  can  get  every  foot  of  that  atmosphere,"  Lack 
put  in  crisply. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  —  but  you  don't  want  that  much. 
-  Too  expensive,  where  it  doesn't  carry  the  action 
along.  I'd  put  in  some  dance-hall  scenes;  you 
haven't  enough  interiors.  Make  your  lead  a  victim 
of  card  sharps,  why  don't  you,  and  have  his  sis- 
ter come  there  after  him?  You  could  get  some 
great  dramatic  action  —  have  her  meet  the  heavy 
there  — " 

"After  the  tried-and-tested  recipe.  Sure,  Mart! 
We  can  take  the  middle  out  of  that  Her-Brother's- 
Honor  film  and  use  that;  and  if  you're  afraid  the 
public  may  recognize  it,  we'll  run  it  backwards.  Or 
we  can  mix  it  with  some  W estern-Girl' s-Romance 
film,  or  take  — " 

"  Now,  Luck,  wait  a  minute.  Wait-a-minute !  " 
Martinson's  hand  went  up  in  the  approved  gesture 
of  stopping  another's  speech.  "  You  can  give  it  an 
original  twist  You  know  you  can;  you  always 
have." 

Luck  swore,  accustomed  though  he  was  to  the 
makeshifts  of  the  business.  The  street  cars  had 
stopped  running  the  night  before,  while  he  was  still 
hammering  that  scenario  out  on  the  typewriter;  the 


68 

street  cars  had  stopped  running,  and  the  steam  heat 
had  been  turned  off  in  the  hotel  where  he  lived,  and 
he  had  finished  with  an  old  Mexican  serape  draped 
about  his  person  for  warmth.  But  his  enthusiasm 
had  not  cooled,  though  his  room  grew  chill.  He  had 
gone  to  bed  when  the  typing  was  done,  and  had 
dreamed  scene  after  scene  vividly  while  he  slept. 
Still  glowing  with  the  pride  of  creation,  he  had  read 
the  script  while  his  breakfast  coffee  had  cooled,  and 
he  had  been  the  first  man  in  the  office,  so  eager  was 
he  to  share  his  secret  and  see  Martinson's  eyes  gleam 
with  impatience  to  have  the  story  filmed. 

Knowing  this,  you  will  know  also  why  he  swore, 
Martinson  thrust  out  his  under  lip  at  the  oath,  and 
tossed  the  script  neatly  into  the  clear  space  on  the 
desk.  "  Oh,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it ! " 
His  tone  was  trenchant.  "  Sorry  I  offered  any  sug- 
gestions. There  are  some  good  bits,  if  they're 
worked  up  right,  and  I  naturally  supposed  you 
wanted  my  opinion." 

"  I  did.  I  never  saw  you  square  up  to  anything 
but  the  same  old  dime-novel  West  before.  I  wanted 
to  see  how  it  would  hit  you." 

"Well,  it  don't."  Martinson  waited  a  minute 
while  that  sunk  in.  When  he  spoke  again,  his  man- 


A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     69 

ner  was  that  of  a  man  who  has  dismissed  a  disagree- 
able subject,  and  has  taken  up  important  business. 

"  We've  made  quite  a  haul  since  you  left.  A 
bunch  of  one-reelers  from  Bently  Brown.  You'll 
eat  'em  up,  Luck, —  all  those  stories  of  his  featuring 
the  adventures  of  the  XY  cowboys.  You've  read 
'em;  everybody  has,  according  to  him..  They'll  be 
cheap  to  put  on,  because  the  same  sets  and  the  same 
locations  will  do  for  the  lot.  Same  cast,  too.  He 
blew  in  here  temporarily  hard  up  and  wanting  to 
unload,  and  we  got  the  whole  series  for  next  to  noth- 
ing." He  opened  a  desk  drawer,  and  took  out  a 
bundle  of  folded  scripts  tied  with  a  dingy  blue  tape. 
Martinson  was  a  matter-of-fact  man;  he  really  did 
not  understand  just  how  much  Luck's  new  story 
meant  to  its  author.  If  he  had,  he  surely  would  not 
have  been  quite  so  brisk  and  so  frankly  elated  over 
that  untidy  lot  of  Bently  Brown  scenarios. 

"  I  had  all  the  synopses  numbered  and  put  on  top 
here,"  he  went  on,  "  so  you  can  run  them  over  and 
•  see  what  they're  like.  A  small  company  will  do, 
Luck.  That's  one  point  that  struck  me.  Two  or 
three  die,  on  an  average,  in  the  first  four  hundred 
feet  of  every  story;  so  you  can  double  a  lot.  I've 
had  Clements  go  over  them  and  start  the  carpenters 


70          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

on  the  street  set  where  most  of  the  exterior  action 
takes  place ;  we're  behind  on  releases,  you  know,  and 
these  ought  to  be  rushed.  You'd  better  go  over  and 
see  how  he's  making  out;  you  may  want  to  make 
some  changes." 

Luck  hesitated  so  long  that  Martinson  was  on  the 
edge  of  withdrawing  the  proffered  scripts.  But  he 
took  them  finally,  and  ran  his  eye  disparagingly  over 
the  titles.  "  Bently  Brown !  "  he  said,  as  though  he 
were  naming  something  disagreeable.  "  I'm  to  film 
Bently  Brown's  blood-and-battle  stuff,  am  I  ?  "  He 
grinned,  with  the  corners  of  his  mouth  tipped  down- 
ward so  that  you  never  would  have  suspected  it  of 
ever  producing  Luck's  famous  smile.  "I  might 
turn  them  into  comedy,"  he  suggested.  "  I  expect  I 
could  get  a  punch  by  burlesquing  — " 

"  Punch ! "  Martinson  pushed  his  chair  back  im- 
petuously. "  Punch  ?  Why,  my  godfrey,  man,  that 
stuff's  all  punch !  " 

Luck  curved  a  palm  over  his  too-expressive  mouth 
while  he  skimmed  the  central  idea  from  two  or  three 
synopses.  Martinson  watched  him  uneasily.  Mar- 
tinson claimed  to  keep  one  finger  pressed  firmly  upon 
the  public  pulse  —  wherever  that  may  be  found  — 
and  to  be  ever  alert  for  its  warning  flutterings. 


A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     71 

Martinson  claimed  to  know  a  great  deal  about  what 

the  public  liked  in  the  way  of  moving  pictures.     He 

believed  in  Luck's  knowledge  of  the  West,  but  he  did 

;not  believe  that  the  public  would  stand  for  the  real 

'  West  at  all ;  the  public,  he  maintained,  wanted  its 

West  served  hot  and  strong  and  reeking  with  the 

smoke  of  black  powder.     So  — 

"Well,  the  market  demands  that  sort  of  thing," 
he  declared,  arguing  against  that  curved  palm  and 
the  telltale  wrinkles  around  Luck's  eyes.  "  It's  all 
tommyrot,  of  course.  I  don't  say  it's  good;  I  say 
it's  the  stuff  that  goes.  We're  here  to  make  what  the 
public  will  pay  to  look  at."  Martinson,  besides 
keeping  his  finger  on  the  public  pulse  and  attending 
to  the  marketing  of  the  Acme  wares  and  watching 
that  expenses  did  not  run  too  high,  found  a  little  time 
in  which  to  be  human.  "  I  know,  Luck,"  the  human 
side  of  him  observed  sympathetically ;  "  it's  just 
made-to-order  melodrama,  but  business  is  simply 
rotten,  old  man.  We've  just  got  to  release  films  the 
market  calls  for.  There's  no  art-for-art's-sake  in  the 
movie  business,  and  you  know  it.  Now,  personally, 
I  like  that  scenario  of  yours  — " 

"  Forget  it !  "  said  Luck  crisply,  warning  him  off 
the  subject.     To  make  the  warning  keener-edged, 


72          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

he  lifted  the  typed  sheets  over  which  he  had  worked 
so  late  the  night  before,  glanced  at  the  top  one,  gave 
a  snort,  and  tore  them  twice  down  the  length  of  them 
with  vicious  twists  of  his  fingers.  He  did  not  mean 
to  be  spectacular;  he  simply  felt  that  way  at  that 
particular  moment,  and  he  indulged  the  impulse  to 
destroy  something.  He  dropped  the  fragments  into 
Martinson's  waste  basket,  picked  up  the  bundle  of 
scripts  and  his  hat,  and  went  out  with  his  mouth 
pulled  down  at  the  corners  and  with  his  neck  pretty 
stiff. 

He  went  swinging  across  the  studio  yard  and  on 
past  the  great  stage  where  the  carpenters  halted  their 
work  while  they  greeted  him,  and  looked  after  him 
and  spoke  of  him  when  he  had  passed.  Early  idlers 
—  extras  with  high  hopes  and  empty  pockets  —  sent 
him  wistful  glances  which  he  did  not  see  at  all; 
though  he  did  see  Andy  Green  and  his  wife  (who- 
had  been  Rosemary  Allen).  These  two  stood  hesi- 
tating just  within  the  half-open,  high  board  gate 
fifty  yards  away.  Luck  waved  his  hand  and  swerved 
toward  them. 

"  Howdy !  Where's  the  rest  of  the  bunch  ?  "  he 
called  out  as  they  hurried  up  to  him.  Whereupon 
the  group  of  extras  were  sharp  bitten  by  envy  of 


A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     73 

these  two  strangers,  spoken  to  so  familiarly  by  Luck 
Lindsay. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  feel  sure  the  boys  are  being  held 
in  the  lost-child  place  at  the  police  station !  "  Rose- 
mary Green  twinkled  her  brown  eyes  at  him  from 
between  strands  of  crinkly  brown  hair.  "  I  had 
tags  all  fixed,  with  name,  age,  owner's  address  and 
all  that,  and  I  was  going  to  hang  them  around  the 
boys'  necks  with  pale  blue  ribbon  —  pale  blue  would 
be  so  becoming!  But  do  you  know,  I  couldn't  find 
them!  I  feel  worried.  I  should  hate  to  waste 
thirty-nine  cents  worth  of  pale  blue  ribbon.  I  can't 
wear  it  myself ;  it  makes  me  look  positively  swarthy." 
Rosemary  Green  had  a  most  captivating  way  of  say- 
ing swarthy. 

The  corners  of  Luck's  mouth  came  up  instantly. 
"  We'll  have  to  send  out  scouting  parties.  I  need 
that  bunch  of  desperadoes.  Let's  look  over  by  the 
corrals.  I've  got  to  go  over  and  see  what  kind  of  a 
street  set  they're  knocking  together,  anyway. 

"  Hello !  I  have  sure-enough  crying  need  for  all 
you  strays,"  he  exclaimed  five  minutes  later,  when 
they  came  upon  the  Flying  U  boys  standing  discon- 
solately at  the  head  of  the  street  "  set "  upon  which 
carpenters  were  hammering  and  sawing  and  painters 


74          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

were  daubing.  Luck's  eyes  chilled  as  he  took  in  the 
stereotyped  "  Western  "  crudeness  of  the  set. 

"  Well,  we  sure  need  you  —  and  need  you  bad," 
•Pink  retorted.  "  We  want  to  know  what  town  was 
peeled  so  they  could  set  the  rind  up  like  that  and  call 
it  a  street  ?  Between  you  and  me,  Luck,  it  don't  look 
good  to  me,  back  or  front.  You  walk  into  what 
claims  to  be  a  saloon,  and  come  out  on  a  view  of  the 
hills.  They  tell  me  the  bar  of  that  imitation  saloon 
is  away  over  there  on  that  platform,  and  they  say  the 
bottles  are  all  full  of  tea.  That  right  ?  " 

Luck  nodded  gloomily.  "  Soon  as  they  get  the  set 
up,  it's  going  to  be  your  privilege  to  come  boiling  out 
of  that  saloon,  shooting  two  guns,  Pink,"  he  prophe- 
sied. "  You'll  have  the  fun  of  killing  half  a  dozen 
boys  that  come  down  from  this  end  shooting  as  they 
ride."  He  put  his  cigarette  between  his  lips  and  be- 
gan to  untie  the  dingy  blue  tape  that  bound  the 
scenarios  together. 

"  Ever  read  any  of  Bently  Brown's  stories  ?  They 
wished  a  bunch  of  them  on  to  me  while  I  was  gone 
and  couldn't  defend  myself,"  he  said,  as  one  who 
breaks  bad  news.  "  I'm  certainly  sorry  about  this, 
boys.  It's  a  long  way  from  what  I  brought  you  out 
here  to  do ;  and  if  you  want  to,  you  can  call  the  deal 


A  BTUSTCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     75 

off  and  go  home.  Rip-snorting,  rotten  melodrama  — 
cheap  as  ice  in  Alaska.  Stuff  I  hate  —  because  if  s 
the  stuff  that  cheapens  the  West  in  pictures." 

"  What  about  our  range  picture  ? "  Andy  Green 
began  anxiously. 

Luck  choked  back  an  oath  because  of  Andy's  wife. 
"  Ah  —  they're  married  to  the  idea  that  this  rot  is 
what  sells  best.  They  don't  know  what  a  real  West- 
ern picture  is;  they  never  saw  one.  And  they're 
afraid  to  take  a  chance.  I  was  in  hopes  —  but 
Mart's  the  big  chief,  you  know.  He'd  gone  and 
loaded  up  with  this  trash,  and  so  he  couldn't  see  my 
story  at  all.  I  get  his  viewpoint,  all  right ;  he's  keen 
to  pry  off  some  real  money,  and  he's  afraid  to  experi- 
ment with  new  tools.  But  it  does  seem  pretty  raw 
to  put  you  boys  working  on  this  cheap  studio  stuff 
after  getting  you  out  here  to  do  something  worth 
while." 

"  We're  to  stay  right  here,  then  ?  "  Weary  spoke 
the  question  that  was  in  the  minds  of  all  of  them. 

"  That's  the  present  outlook,"  Luck  confessed  with 
bitterness.  "  I  don't  need  real  country  for  this  junk. 
I  was  all  primed  to  show  him  where  Ed  have  to  take 
my  company  to  New  Mexico,  but  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing about  it  when  he  sprung  this  Bently  Brown 


76          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

business.  This  will  all  be  made  right  here  at  the 
studio  and  out  in  Griffith  Park." 

Down  deep  in  Luck's  heart  there  was  a  hurt  he 
would  not  reveal  to  any  one.  It  was  built  partly  of 
disappointment  and  an  honest  dislike  for  doing  un- 
worthy work ;  it  had  in  it  also  some  personal  chagrin 
at  being  compelled  to  put  the  Happy  Family  at  work 
in  the  very  class  of  pictures  he  had  often  ridiculed 
in  his  talk  with  them,  after  bringing  them  all  the 
way  from  Montana  so  that  he  might  produce  his  big 
range  picture.  He  stood  looking  somberly  at  the  set 
which  Clements  had  planned  to  save  time  —  and 
therefore  dollars  —  for  the  Acme  Company.  He 
thought  of  his  range  story,  as  it  had  first  grown  out 
of  the  night  away  up  there  in  the  plains  country; 
he  thought  of  how  he  had  hurried  so  that  he  might 
the  sooner  make  the  vision  a  reality;  how  he  had 
talked  of  it  confidently  to  these  men  who  had  listened 
with  growing  enthusiasm  and  interest,  until  his 
vision  had  become  their  vision,  his  hopes  their 
hopes. 

They  had  left  the  Mying  U  and  come  with  him  to 
help  make  that  big  picture  of  the  range.  By  their 
eager  talk  they  had  helped  him  to  strengthen  certain 
scenes;  they  had  even  suggested  new,  original 


A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     77 

material  as  they  told  of  this  adventure  and  that 
accident,  and  argued  —  as  was  their  habit  —  over 
scenes  and  situations.  That  was  why  Andy  had 
spoken  of  it  as  their  picture.  That  was  why  they 
were  here ;  that  was  what  had  brought  them  early  to 
the  studio.  And  in  his  hand  he  held  a  half  dozen  or 
more  of  those  cheap,  lurid  stories  he  had  always 
despised;  they  must  let  the  public  see  their  faces  in 
these  impossible,  illogical  situations,  or  they  must  go 
back  and  call  Luck  Lindsay  names  to  salve  their  dis- 
appointment. 

The  dried  little  man  —  whose  name  was  Dave 
Wiswell  —  came  walking  curiously  up  the  fresh- 
made  "  street,"  his  sharp  eyes  taking  in  the  falsity 
of  the  whole  row  of  shack-houses  that  had  no  backs; 
bald  behind  as  board  fences,  save  where  two-by-fours 
braced  them  from  falling.  He  saw  the  group  stand- 
ing before  a  wall  that  purported  to  be  the  front  of  a 
bank  (which  would  be  robbed  with  much  bloodshed 
in  the  second  scenario)  and  he  hurried  a  little.  Luck 
scowled  at  him  preoccupiedly,  nodded  a  good  morn- 
ing, and  turned  abruptly  to  the  others. 

"  Listen.  If  you  boys  are  game  for  this  melo- 
drama, I'd  like  to  use  you,  all  right.  You'll  get  ex- 
perience in  the  business,  anyway,  so  maybe  it  won't 


,78          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

do  you  any  harm.  And  if  the  weather  holds  good, 
we'll  just  make  a  long  hard  drive  of  this  bunch  of 
drivel ;  we'll  rush  'em  through  —  sabe  ?  And  I'll 
make  it  my  business  to  see  that  Mart  doesn't  unload 
any  more  of  the  same.  You  may  even  get  some  fun 
out  of  it,  seeing  you're  not  fed  up  on  this  said  West- 
ern drama,  the  way  I  am.  Anyway,  what's  the 
word?  Shall  I  hop  into  the  machine  and  go  down 
and  buy  you  fellows  a  bunch  of  return  tickets,  or 
shall  I  assign  you  your  parts  and  wade  into  this  blood 
and  bullets  business  ?  " 

Weary  folded  his  arms  and  grinned  down  at  Luck. 
"  I'm  all  for  the  blood  and  bullets,  myself,"  he  said 
promptly.  "  I'm  just  crazy  to  come  shooting  and 
yelling  down  this  little  imitation  street  and  do  things 
that  are  bold  and  bad." 

"I  should  think,"  interjected  Rosemary  Green, 
with  a  pretty  viciousness,  "  that  you'd  be  ashamed, 
Luck  Lindsay  I  Do  you  think  we  are  a  bunch  of 
quitters?  Give  me  a  part  —  and  a  gun  —  and  I'll 
i  stand  on  a  ladder  behind  that  hotel  window  and 
shoot  'em  as  fast  as  they  can  turn  the  corner  down 
there."  Her  brown  eyes  twinkled  hearteningly  at 
him.  "  I'll  pull  my  hair  down,  and  yell  and  shoot 
and  wring  my  hands  —  Pink,  you  keep  still!  I'm 


A  BUNCH  OF  ONE-REELERS     79 

positive  I  can  shoot  and  wring  my  hands  at  the  same 
time  in  a  Bently  Brown  story,  can't  I,  Luck  ? " 

"  You  certainly  can,"  Luck  told  her  grimly. 
"  You  can  do  worse  than  that  and  get  by.  Well,  all 
right,  folks.  You  prowl  around  and  kill  time  while 
I  get  ready  to  start.  There  won't  be  anything  doing 
till  after  lunch,  at  the  earliest,  so  make  yourselves  at 
home.  I'd  introduce  you  to  some  of  these  folks  if  it 
was  worth  while,  but  it  ain't.  You'll  know  them 
soon  enough  —  most  of  them  to  your  sorrow,  at  that." 
He  turned  on  his  heel  with  a  hasty  "  See  yuh  later," 
and  plunged  into  the  work  before  him  just  as  ener- 
getically as  though  his  heart  were  in  it. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

VILLAXNS    AT.T.  AND    PBOUD   OP   IT 

*  <T~^V  AY'S  work,  boys!  "  called  Luck  through  his 
JL-/  little  megaphone  at  three  o'clock  one  day, 
and  doubled  up  his  working  script  that  was  much 
crumpled  and  scribbled  with  hasty  pencil  marks. 
"  No  use  spoiling  good  film,"  he  remarked  to  his  as- 
sistant, glancing  up  at  the  sweeping  fog  bank,  off  to 
the  west.  "  By  the  time  we  rehearse  the  next 
scene,  she'll  be  too  dark  to  shoot.  You  go  and  order 
these  cavalry  costumes,  Beckitt ;  and,  say !  You  tell 
them  down  there  that  if  they're  shy  on  the  number, 
they  better  set  down  and  make  enough,  because  they 
won't  see  a  cent  of  our  money  if  there's  so  much  as  a 
canteen  lacking.  And  tell  'em  to  send  army  guns. 
That  last  assortment  of  junk  they  sent  out  was  pa- 
thetic. I  want  equipment  for  fifty  U.  S.  Cavalry, 
time  of  the  early  eighties.  That  don't  mean  forty- 
nine —  get  me?  You're  inclined  to  let  those  fel- 
lows have  it  their  own  way  too  much.  I  want  this 
cavalry  — " 


VILLAINS  ALL  81 

"  There  ain't  any  close-ups  of  cavalry,  are  there  ?  " 
Beckitt  demurred.  "  I  told  them  last  time  I  thought 
those  guns  would  do,  because  I  knew  the  detail 
wouldn't  — " 

"  Listen."  Luck's  tone  was  deliberately  tolerant. 
"  That's  maybe  the  reason  you've  been  searching 
your  soul  for  all  along  —  the  reason  why  you  can't 
get  past  the  assistant-director  stage.  I  want  those 
fifty  cavalrymen  equipped !  Do  you  get  that  ? " 
While  his  eyes  held  Beckitt  uncomfortably  with  their 
stern  steadfastness,  Luck  thrust  the  script  into  his 
coat  pocket  that  had  a  permanent,  motion-picture- 
director  sag  to  it.  "  If  I  meant  that  any  old  gun 
would  do,  I'd  give  my  orders  that  way.  Now,  re- 
member, there  isn't  going  to  be  any  waiting  around 
while  you  go  back  and  argue,  nor  any  makeshifts, 
nor  anything  but  fifty  cavalrymen  fully  equipped. 
Here's  the  list  complete  for  to-morrow's  order.  You 
see  that  it's  filled !  " 

Beckitt  took  the  list  which  he  should  have  made 
himself,  since  that  was  what  he  was  paid  for  doing, 
and  went  off  in  the  sulks  and  the  company  machine. 
Luck  pulled  a  solacing  cigar  from  an  inner  pocket 
and  licked  down  the  roughened  outer  leaves,  and 
scowled  thoughtfully  across  the  studio  yard.  The 


82          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

camera  man  was  figuring  up  footage  or  something, 
and  his  assistant  was  hurrying  to  get  the  tripod 
folded  and  put  away.  There  was  a  new  briskness  in 
the  movements  of  every  one  save  Luck  himself,  after 
he  spoke  that  last  sentence  through  the  megaphone. 

The  Happy  Family  —  or  that  part  of  it  which  had 
thrown  away  pitchforks  and  taken  to  the  pictures  — 
came  clanking  across  the  stage  toward  Luck.  You 
would  never  have  known  the  Happy  Family,  unless 
it  were  the  ISTative  Son  who  wore  his  usual  regalia  in 
exaggerated  form.  The  Happy  Family  had  wide, 
flapping  chaps  that  made  them  drag  their  feet  they 
were  so  heavy  and  so  long,  and  great  Mexican  spurs 
whose  rowels  dug  tiny  trenches  in  the  ground  when 
they  walked.  They  wore  the  biggest  Stetsons  that 
famous  hat  brand  ever  was  stamped  upon.  They 
had  huge  bandanas  draped  picturesquely  over  their 
chests,  and  their  sleeves  were  rolled  to  the  elbows  and 
their  eyes  rimmed  with  deep  pencil  shadings.  At 
their  hips  swung  six-shooters  of  violent  pattern  and  ( 
portent.  Around  their  middles  sagged  belts  filled 
with  blank  cartridges.  A  sack  of  tobacco  was  mak- 
ing the  rounds  as  they  came  on,  and  Luck  watched 
them  through  speculatively  narrowed  lids. 

"  Say,  by  cripes,  that  there  saloon  is  the  driest 


VILLAINS  ALE  83 

poison-palace  I  ever  surged  out  of  with  two  guns 
spittin'  death,  and  dumnation !  "  Big  Medicine  com- 
plained, coming  up  with  the  plain  intention  of  light- 
ing his  cigarette  from  Luck's  cigar.  "  How'd  we 
stack  up  this  time,  boss  ?  Bein'  soused  on  cold  tea, 
I  couldn't  rightly  pass  judgment.  How  many  was 
it  I  murdered  in  cold  blood,  in  that  there  scene  where 
I  laid  'em  out  with  black  powder?  Four,  or  five? 
Pink,  here,  claims  I  killed  him  twicet,  whereas  he 
oughta  be  left  alive  enough  to  jump  on  his  horse  and 
ride  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  fall  dead  in 
his  best  girl's  arms.  He  claims  he  made  that  ride 
day  before  yesterday,  and  done  some  pitiful  weaving 
around  in  the  saddle,  out  there  in  the  hills,  and  that 
he  died  in  that  blond  lady's  arms  first  thing  this 
morning,  and  I  hadn't  no  right  to  kill  him  twicet 
afterwards  in  the  saloon  fight.  Now  I  leave  it  to 
you,  boss.  How  about  this  here  killin'  Pink  off 
every  oncet  in  a  while  ?  " 

Deep  in  his  throat  Luck  chuckled.  "  Well,  Pink 
certainly  does  die  pathetic,"  he  soothed  the  perturbed 
murderer,  dropping  his  professional  brusqueness  for 
frank  comradeship.  "  He's  about  the  best  little 
close-up  dier  I  ever  worked  with.  He  can  get  a  sob 
anytime  he  rolls  his  eyes  and  gasps  and  falls  back- 


84          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ward."     He  clapped  his  hand  down  on  Pink's  shoul- 
der and  gave  it  a  little  shake. 

"  That's  all  right,"  drawled  the  Native  Son,  tak- 
ing off  his  somhrero  to  deepen  the  crease  and  the 
dents,  because  three  girls  were  coming  across  the  lot. 
"  But  I've  got  a  complaint  of  my  own  to  make. 
When  you  holler  for  Bud  to  start  the  rough  stuff, 
he  just  goes  powder  crazy.  He  shot  me  up  four 
times  in  that  scene !  Twice  he  held  the  gun  so  close 
my  scalp's  all  powder-marked,  and  by  rights  he 
should  have  blowed  the  top  of  my  head  plumb  into 
the  street.  He  gets  so  taken  up  with  this  slaughter- 
house business  that  he'll  wind  up  by  shooting  him- 
self a  few  times  if  you  don't  watch  him." 

"  One  thing,"  Weary  put  in  mildly,  "  I  want  to 
speak  about,  Luck.  We  need  more  blood  for  those 
murders.  I  didn't  have  half  enough  for  all  the  mor- 
tal wounds  Bud  gave  me.  By  rights  that  saloon 
should  be  plumb  reeking  with  gore  when  we're  all 
killed  off  —  the  way  Bud  flies  at  it  with  those  two 
six-shooters.  No  bullets  hit  the  walls  anywhere,  so 
it  stands  to  reason  they  all  land  in  a  soft  spot  on  our 
persons.  I  needed  a  large  bucket  of  blood  — 
and  I  had  about  a  half  teacupful."  He  grinned. 
"  Mamma !  That  was  sure  some  slaughter,  though !  " 


VILLAINS  ALL  85 

"  Where's  Tracy  Gray  Joyce  ? "  Luck  inquired 
irrelevantly,  with  a  hasty  glance  around  them. 
"  To-morrow,  he'll  have  to  come  into  that  same 
slaughter  pen  and  seize  the  murderer  and  subdue 
him  by  the  steely  glint  of  his  eye  and  by  his  unflinch- 
ing demeanor."  He  pulled  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
down  expressively.  "  That's  the  way  the  scenario 
reads,"  he  added  defensively. 

"  Well,  say,  by  cripes,  he  better  amble  down  to  the 
city  and  buy  him  some  more  glint !  "  Big  Medicine 
bawled,  and  laughed  afterwards  with  his  big  haw- 
haw-haw.  "  And  I'll  gamble  there  ain't  enough  un- 
flinchin'  demeanor  on  the  Coast  to  put  that  boy 
through  the  scene.  Honest-to-gran'-ma,  Luck,  that 
there  Tracy  Gray  Joyce  gits  pale,  and  his  Adam's 
apple  pumps  up  and  down  when  I  come  up  and  smile 
at  him!  What  color  do  yuh  reckon  he'll  turn  to 
when  he  stands  up  to  me  right  after  me  slaying  all 
these  innocent  boys  —  and  me  a-foamin'  at  the 
mouth  and  gloatin'  over  the  foul  deed  I've  just  did  ? 
Say?  How's  he  going  to  keep  that  there  Adam's 
apple  from  shootin'  clean  up  through  his  hair,  and 
his  knees  from  wobblin'  ?  How  — " 

"  He  won't,"  said  Luck  suddenly,  with  a  brighten- 
ing of  his  eyes.  "He  won't.  I  hope  they  do 


86          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

wobble.  You  go  ahead,  Bud,  and  foam  at  tbe  mouth. 
You  —  you  look  at  Tracy  Gray  Joyce.  Not  in  tbe 
rehearsing,  understand;  leave  out  tbe  foam  and  tbe 
gloating  till  we  turn  the  camera  on  tbe  scene.  Sabe  ? 
On  tbe  quiet,  boys." 

"  Sure,"  came  tbe  guarded  chorus.  It  was  re- 
markable what  a  complete  understanding  there  was 
between  Luck  and  tbe  Happy  Family.  It  was  that 
complete  understanding  which  had  kept  Luck's 
spirits  up  during  bis  unloved  task  of  producing 
Bently  Brown  stuff  in  film. 

"  Well,  say !  "  Big  Medicine  leaned  close  and 
throttled  his  voice  down  to  a  hoarse  whisper. 
"What  kinda  bee-ro  will  your  Tracy  Gray  Joyce 
look  like,  when  I  start  up  foamin'  and  gloatin'  at 
him?" 

Luck  smiled.  "  That,"  he  said  calmly,  "  is  for 
tbe  camera  to  find  out"  He  was  going  to  say  some- 
thing more  on  the  subject,  but  some  one  called  to  him 
anxiously  from  over  toward  the  office.  So  he  told 
them  adios  hurriedly  and  went  his  busy  way,  and 
left  the  Happy  Family  discussing  him  gravely  among 
themselves. 

The  Happy  Family  were  so  interested  in  this  new 
work  that  they  were  ready  to  see  tbe  bright  side 


VILLAINS  ALL  8T 

even  of  these  weird  performances  which  purported  to 
be  Western  drama.  If  you  did  not  take  it  seriously, 
all  this  violence  of  dress  and  behavior  was  fun.  The 
Happy  Family  was  slipping  into  a  rivalry  of 
violence;  and  the  strange  part  of  it  was  that  Luck 
Lindsay,  stickler  for  realism,  self-confessed  enthu- 
siast on  the  uplifting  of  motion  pictures  to  a  fine  art, 
permitted  their  violence, —  which  was  not  as  the 
violence  of  other,  better  trained  Western  actors. 
The  Happy  Family,  after  their  first  self-conscious 
tendency  to  duck  behind  something  or  somebody, 
had  come  to  forget  the  merciless,  recording  eye  of 
the  camera.  They  had  come  to  look  upon  their  work 
as  a  game,  played  for  the  amusement  of  Luck  Lind- 
say, who  watched  them  always,  and  for  the  open  ridi- 
cule of  Bently  Brown,  writer  of  these  tales  of  blood 
and  heroics. 

And  Luck  not  only  permitted  but  encouraged  them 
in  this  exaggeration, —  to  the  amazement  of  the 
camera  man  who  had  turned  the  crank  on  more  West- 
ern dramas  than  he  could  remember.  Scenes  of 
violence  —  such  as  the  saloon  row  in  which  Big 
Medicine  had  forgotten  that  Pink  was  to  be  left  alive, 
and  so  had  killed  him  twice  —  made  the  camera  man 
and  the  assistant  laugh  when  they  should  have 


88 

shuddered ;  and  to  wonder  why  Luck  Lindsay,  wholly 
biased  though  he  was  in  favor  of  the  Happy  Family, 
did  not  seem  to  realize  that  they  were  not  getting  the 
right  punch  into  the  pictures. 

Luck  was  not  behaving  at  all  in  his  usual  manner 
with  his  company.  Evenings,  instead  of  holding 
himself  aloof  from  his  subordinates,  he  would  head 
straight  for  the  furnished  bungalow  which  the  Flying 
TJ  boys  had  taken  possession  of,  with  Rosemary 
Green  to  give  the  home  atmosphere  which  saved  the 
place  from  becoming  a  mere  bunk-house  de  luxe.  If 
he  could  possibly  manage  it,  Luck  would  reach  head- 
quarters in  time  for  dinner  —  the  Happy  Family 
blandly  called  it  supper,  of  course  —  and  would  pro- 
ceed to  forget  the  day's  irritations  while  he  ate  what 
he  ambiguously  called  "  real  cookinV 

There  was  a  fireplace  in  that  bungalow,  and  a 
fairly  large  living-room  surrounding  the  fireplace. 
The  Happy  Family  extravagantly  indulged  them- 
selves in  wood,  even  at  the  unbelievable  price  they 
must  pay  for  it;  and  after  supper  they  would  light 
the  fire  and  hunt  up  chairs  enough,  and  roll  ciga- 
rettes, and  talk  themselves  quite  away  from  the  pres- 
ent and  into  the  past  of  glowing  memory. 

The  horses  they  rode  —  before  that  fireplace  — 


89 

would  have  made  any  Frontier  Day  celebration 
famous  enough  to  be  mentioned  in  the  next  encyclo- 
pedia published.  The  herds  they  took  through  hard 
winters  and  summer  droughts  would  have  made  them 
millionaires  all,  if  they  could  only  have  turned  them 
into  flesh-and-blood  animals.  They  talked  of  bliz- 
zards and  of  high  water  and  of  short  grass  and  of 
thunderstorms.  They  added  little  touches  to  the  big 
range  picture  Luck  had  planned  to  make.  Start- 
ing off  suddenly  in  this  wise :  "  Say,  Luck,  why 
don't  you  have  —  ?  "  and  the  fires  of  enthusiasm 
would  flare  again  in  Luck's  eyes,  and  the  talk  would 
grow  eager. 

But  —  and  here  was  the  key  to  the  remarkable 
interpretation  which  Luck  permitted  the  Happy 
Family  to  give  the  Bently  Brown  stories  —  some 
time  before  the  evening  was  too  old,  Luck  would 
swing  the  talk  around  to  the  work  they  were  doing. 
He  would  pull  a  Bently  Brown  scenario  from  his 
pocket  and  read,  with  much  sarcastic  comment,  the 
scenes  they  were  later  to  enact.  He  would  incite 
the  Happy  Family  to  poking  funrat  such  lurid  per- 
formances as  Bently  Brown  described  in  all  serious- 
ness and  in  detail.  He  would  encourage  comment 
and  argument  and  the  play  of  their  caustic  imagi- 


go         THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

nations  upon  the  action  of  the  story.  He  would 
gradually  make  them  see  the  whole  thing  in  the  light 
of  a  huge  joke;  he  would,  without  saying  much  him- 
self, bring  the  Happy  Family  into  the  mood  of  want- 
ing to  make  Bently  Brown  appear  ridiculous  to  all 
beholders. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  if  the  camera  man  and  the 
assistants  should  exchange  puzzled  glances  when 
Luck  put  the  Happy  Family  through  their  scenes? 
Exits  and  entrances,  the  essential  details  of  the 
action,  Luck  directed  painstakingly,  as  always  he  had 
done.  Why,  then,  said  camera  man  to  assistants, 
should  he  let  those  fellows  go  in  and  ball  up  the  dra- 
matic business  and  turn  whole  scenes  into  farce  with 
their  foolery  ?  And  why  had  he  chosen  Tracy  Gray 
Joyce  as  leading  man?  And  that  eye-rolling,  limp 
sentimentalist,  Lenore  Honiwell,  as  his  leading 
woman?  Luck  was  known  to  despise  these  two, 
personally  and  professionally.  They  could  not,  to 
save  their  lives,  get  through  a  dramatic  scene  to- 
gether without  giving  the  observers  a  sickish  feeling. 
To  see  Tracy  Gray  Joyce  lay  his  hand  upon  the  left 
side  of  his  cravat  and  cast  his  eyes  upward  always 
made  Luck  shiver;  yet  Tracy  Gray  Joyce  would  he 
have  for  leading  man,  and  none  other.  To  see 


VILLAINS  ALL  91 

Lenore  Honiwell  throw  back  her  head,  close  her  eyes, 
and  heave  one  of  those  terrific  motion-picture  sighs 
always  made  the  camera  man  snort;  yet  Luck,  who 
before  had  considered  her  scarcely  worth  a  civil  bow 
when  he  met  her,  had  actually  coaxed  her  away  from 
a  director  who  really  admired  her  style  of  acting. 

And  when  Luck,  who  had  always  gone  about 
his  work  impervious  to  curious  onlookers,  suddenly 
changed  his  method  and  ordered  all  interior  sets 
screened  in,  and  all  bystanders  away  from  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  his  exterior  scenes,  the  Acme 
people  began  to  call  him  "  swell-headed  " —  when 
they  did  not  call  him  worse.  Even  his  excuse  that 
he  was  working  with  boys  new  to  the  business  and  did 
not  want  them  rattled  failed  to  satisfy  most  of  them. 

The  Happy  Family,  in  the  tiny,  bare  dressing 
rooms  which  they  called  box-stalls  in  merciless 
candor,  were  smearing  their  faces  liberally  with 
cold  cream  and  still  arguing  among  themselves  over 
the  doubtful  blessing  of  owning  as  many  lives  as  a 
cat,  and  bewailing  the  bruises  theyjbad  received  while 
sacrificing  a  few  of  their  lives  to  the  blood-lust  of 
Big  Medicine  and  Pink,  the  two  official,  Bently- 
Brown  bad  men.  Outside  their  two  connecting 
"  stalls  "  a  fine  drizzle  was  making  the  studio  yard 


92          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

an  empty  place  of  churchyard  gloom  and  incidentally 
justifying  Luck  in  quitting  so  early.  Big  Medicine' 
was  swabbing  paint  from  his  eyebrows  and  bellow- 
ing his  opinion  of  a  man  that  will  keep  a-comin',  by 
cripes,  after  he's  shot  the  third  time  at  close  range, 
and  then  kick  because  he  takes  so  much  killing  off. 
This  was  aimed  at  the  Native  Son,  who  had  evidently 
died  hard,  and  who  meant  to  retaliate  as  soon  as  he 
got  that  dab  of  paint  out  of  his  eye.  But  the  door 
opened  violently  against  his  person  and  startled  him 
into  forgetting  his  next  observation. 

This  was  Luck,  and  he  had  the  look  of  a  man  who 
owns  a  guilty  secret,  and  is  ready  to  be  rather  proud 
of  his  guilt, —  providing  society  consents  to  wink  at 
it  with  him.  He  was  not  smiling,  exactly ;  he  had  a 
wicked  kind  of  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  Hurry  up,  boys !  My  Lord,  how  you  fellows  do 
primp  and  jangle  in  here!  They're  going  to  run 
our  first  picture,  The  Soul  of  Littlefoot  Law.  Don't 
you  fel— " 

/  "  The  which  ?  "  Big  Medicine  whirled  upon  him, 
rubbing  his  left  eye  into  a  terrifying,  bloodshot  con- 
dition while  he  glared  with  the  other. 

" The  Soul  of  Littlefoot  Law"  Luck  repeated  dis- 
tinctly with  a  perfect  neutrality  of  manner. 


VILLAINS  ALL  93 

"  'S  that  what  you  call  all  that  ridin'  and  shootin' 
we  done,  that  you  said  was  by  moonlight  ? "  Pink 
inquired  pugnaciously  —  for  a  young  man  who  had 
died  the  death  four  different  times  that  day. 

"  That's  what  it's  called,"  Luck  averred  with  firm- 
ness. 

"Aw  —  where  does  Soul  of  Littlefoot  Law  come 
in  at  ?  "  Happy  Jack  scoffed. 

"  It  doesn't,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"  Aw,  there  ain't  no  sense  in  such  a  name  as  that. 
Is  that  where  I  got  shot  o£Pn  my  horse,  and  Bud, 
here,  done  his  best  to  run  over  me  ?  " 

"  That's  the  one.  My  Lord,  boys,  how  long  does 
it  take  you  fellows  to  get  your  make-up  off  ?  They'll 
have  the  film  run  and  passed  and  released  and  out 
on  the  five-cent  circuit  on  its  fifteenth  round  before 
you — "  Luck,  director  though  he  was,  found  it 
wise  to  pass  out  quickly  and  hold  the  door  shut  be- 
hind him  for  a  minute.  "  Honest,  boys,  you  want 
to  hurry,"  he  called  through  the  closed  door.  He 
waited  until  the  sounds  within  indicated  that  they 
were  hurrying  quite  violently,  and  then  he  went  his 
way;  and  he  still  had  the  look  in  his  eyes  of  one 
who  bears  in  his  soul  a  secret  guilt  of  which  he  is 
inclined  to  be  proud. 


94          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

When  the  Acme  people  gathered  resignedly  in  the 
private  projection  room,  however,  Luck's  wicked  lit- 
tle twinkle  had  turned  a  shade  anxious.  He  excused 
himself  from  the  chair  between  Martinson  and  Mol- 
lie  Ryan,  the  stenographer,  and  went  over  to  confer 
with  the  Happy  Family  and  the  dried  little  man  who 
kept  clannishly  together  as  usual,  and  he  forgot  to  re- 
turn to  his  place. 

The  Acme  people,  personally  and  individually, 
were  sick  and  tired  of  all  motion  pictures  that  did 
not  portray  with  vividness  the  beauty  or  the  talents 
of  themselves,  or  the  faults  of  their  acquaintances. 
No  Acme  people,  save  Lenore  Honiwell  and  Tracy 
Gray  Joyce  and  a  phlegmatic  character  woman,  were 
in  this  picture  at  all.  The  camera  man  who  took  it 
did  not  think  highly  of  it  and  considered  the  won- 
derful photography  as  good  as  wasted,  and  he  had 
said  as  much  —  and  more  —  to  his  intimates. 
Beckitt,  Luck's  assistant,  had  privately  announced  it 
as  the  rottenest  piece  of  cheese  he  had  ever  seen 
i  under  a  Wild- West  label,  and  disclaimed  all  responsi- 
bility. They  of  the  cutting  and  trimming  clan  had 
not  said  anything  at  all.  Martinson,  having  heard 
the  rumors,  felt  that  they  confirmed  his  own  suspi- 
cion that  Luck  had  made  a  big  blunder  in  bringing 


VILLAINS  ALL  95 

those  cowboys  into  the  company.  They  were  not 
actors.  They  did  not  pretend  to  be  actors. 

You  will  see  that  it  was  a  critical  audience  indeed 
that  gathered  there  in  the  projection  room  that  rainy 
afternoon  to  see  the  trial  run  of  The  Soul  of  the  Lit- 
tlefoot  Law.  It  would  take  a  good  deal  to  win  any 
approbation  from  that  bunch. 

And  then  they  were  looking  at  the  first  scene, 
which  was  a  night  in  Whoopalong,  the  fake  town 
over  there  beyond  the  big  stage.  The  Happy  Fam- 
ily, all  disguised  as  cowboys,  came  surging  out  of 
the  darkness.  H-m-m.  That  was  the  bunch  that 
Luck  Lindsay  had  done  so  much  bragging  about, 
and  called  "  real  boys,"  was  it  ?  silently  commented 
the  audience.  !N"o  different  from  any  other  cow- 
boys, as  far  as  any  one  could  see. 

True,  they  used  about  half  the  usual  amount  of 
film  footage  in  getting  to  foreground;  probably  un- 
derspeeded  the  camera, —  an  old,  old  trick  which  has 
helped  to  put  the  dash  and  ginger^  into  many  a  poor 
horseman's  act. 

But  the  "  XY  cowboys "  certainly  surged  up  to 
foreground,  and  it  was  seen  that  they  rode  with 
reins  in  their  teeth,  and  that  each  and  every  man 
fired  two  huge  six-shooters  straight  up  at  the  moon 


96          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

every  time  their  horses  hit  the  ground  with  forefeet 
The  Happy  Family  leaned  forward  and  craned 
around  the  heads  of  those  in  front  that  they  might 
3ee  all  of  it.  Luck  had  told  them  before  making  this 
scene  to  "  eat  'em  alive,"  and  the  Happy  Family  had 
very  nearly  done  so.  Andy  Green  nudged  his  wife, 
Kosemary,  and  whispered  hurriedly  that  this  was 
where  the  camera  man  had  pulled  up  his  tripod  by 
the  roots  and  beat  it,  thinking  he  was  going  to  be 
run  over;  and  that  was  why  the  scene  was  cut  unex- 
pectedly just  where  Andy  set  his  horse  on  its 
haunches  and  posed,  a  heroic  figure  of  a  cowboy  ram- 
pant, immediately  before  the  lens. 

Luck,  glancing  hurriedly  to  right  and  left,  slid 
down  and  rested  the  nape  of  his  neck  on  the  back  of 
his  chair,  slipped  a  fresh  stick  of  gum  between  his 
teeth,  hung  his  hat  on  his  knee,  and  prepared  to  view 
his  work  with  critical  mind  and  impartial,  and  with 
his  conscience  like  his  body  at  ease.  The  thing  had 
certainly  started  off  with  zip  enough,  since  zip  was 
what  Mart  claimed  the  Public  demanded. 

The  next  scene  was  a  continuation  of  the  one  be- 
fore,—  the  camera  man  having  evidently  recovered 
himself  and  gotten  to  work  again.  The  Happy 
Family,  still  surging  and  still  shooting  two  guns 


VILLAINS  ALL  97 

apiece  at  the  pale  moon,  were  shown  entering  the 
saloon  door  four  abreast  and  with  the  rest  crowding 
for  place.  Still  there  was  zip;  all  kinds  of  zip. 
The  Happy  Family  nudged  and  grinned  in  the  dusk 
and  were  very  much  pleased  with  themselves  as  XY 
cowboys  seeking  mild  entertainment  in  town. 

Some  one  behind  remarked  upon  the  surging  and 
the  shooting,  and  Big  Medicine  turned  his  head 
quickly  and  sent  a  hoarse  stage  whisper  in  the  gen- 
eral direction  of  the  mumble. 

"  Ah-h,  that  there  ain't  anything !  Luck  never  let 
us  turn  ourselves  loose  there  a-tall.  You  wait,  by 
cripes,  till  yuh  see  us  where  we  git  warmed  up  and 
strung  out  proper!  You  wait!  Honest  to  gran' — " 
It  was  Luck's  elbow  that  stopped  him  by  the  simple 
expedient  of  cutting  off  his  wind.  Big  Medicine 
gave  a  grunt  and  said  no  more. 

Thereafter,  the  Happy  Family  discovered  that 
there  was  a  certain  continuity  in  the  barbaric  per- 
formances in  which  Luck  had  grinningly  encouraged 
them  to  indulge  themselves.  They  beheld  them- 
selves engaged  in  various  questionable  enterprises, 
and  they  laughed  in  naive  enjoyment  as  certain 
bloodcurdling  traits  in  their  characters  were  depicted 
with  startling  vividness.  Accented  by  make-up  and 


98          THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

magnified  on  the  screen,  the  goggling,  frog-like  ugli- 
ness of  Big  Medicine  became  like  unto  ogres  of  child- 
ish memory;  his  smile  was  a  thing  to  make  one's 
back  hair  stand  up  with  a  cold,  prickling  sensation. 
Happy  Jack  stared  at  himself  and  his  exaggerated 
awkwardness  incredulously,  with  a  sheepish  grin  of 
appreciation.  The  rest  of  them  watched  and  missed 
no  slightest  gesture. 

So  they  saw  the  plot  of  Bently  Brown  unfold, 
scene  by  scene;  unfold  in  violence  and  malevolent 
intrigue  and  zip  and  much  fighting.  Also  unfolded 
something  of  which  Bently  Brown  had  never 
dreamed;  something  which  the  audience,  though 
greeting  it  with  laughter,  failed  at  first  to  recognize 
for  what  it  was  worth,  because  every  one  knew  all 
about  the  Bently-Brown  Western  dramas,  and  every 
one  believed  that  they  were  to  be  made  after  the 
usual  recipe  more  elaborately  stirred.  So  every 
one  had  been  chortling  through  several  scenes  before 
the  significance  of  their  laughter  occurred  to  them./ 

Comedy  —  that  was  it.  Comedy,  that  had  slipped 
in  with  cap  and  bells  just  when  the  door  was  flung 
open  for  black-robed  Tragedy.  But  it  waa  too  late 
to  stop  laughing  when  they  discovered  the  trick. 
They  saw  it  now,  in  the  very  sub-titles  which  Luck 


VILLAINS  ALL  99 

had  twisted  impishly  into  sly  humor  that  pointed  to 
the  laugh  in  the  deeds  of  blood  that  followed.  They 
saw  it  in  the  goggling  ferocity  of  Big  Medicine;  in 
the  innocent-eyed,  dimpled  fiendishness  of  Pink;  in 
the  lank  awkwardness  of  Happy  Jack.  They  saw 
it  in  the  sentimental  mannerisms  of  Lenore  Honi- 
well,  whose  sickish  emotionalism  slipped  pat  into  the 
burlesque.  They  rocked  in  their  seats  at  the  heroics 
of  Tracy  Gray  Joyce,  who  could  never  again  be 
taken  seriously,  since  Luck  had  tagged  him  merci- 
lessly as  an  unconscious  comedian. 

Oh,  yes,  there  was  zip  to  the  picture !  But  there 
was  no  explanation  of  the  title.  The  Soul  of  Little- 
foot  Law  remained  as  great  a  mystery  when  the  pic- 
ture was  finished  as  it  had  been  at  the  start.  Little- 
foot  Law,  by  the  way,  was  Pink.  That  much  the 
audience  discovered,  and  no  more ;  for  as  to  his  soul, 
he  did  not  seem  to  own  one. 

Luck,  still  hunched  down  so  that  his  back  hair 
rubbed  against  his  chair  back,  was  laughing  with  his 
!  jaws  wide  apart  and  his  fine  teeth  still  gleaming  in 
the  half  darkness,  when  Ted,  general  errand  boy  at 
the  office,  came  straddling  over  intervening  laps  and 
laid  a  compelling  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Say,  Luck,"  he  whispered  excitedly,  "  the  au- 


100        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

thor's  with  Mart,  and  they  both  want  t'  see  you. 
And,  say,  I  guess  you're  in  Dutch,  all  right;  the 
author's  awful  mad,  and  so  is  Mart.  But  say,  no 
matter  what  they  do  to  you,  Luck,  take  it  from  me, 
that  pit'cher's  a  humdinger  1  I  like  to  died  a-laugh- 
ing!" 


CHAPTEE  SEVE2T 

BENTLY  BROWN  DOES  NOT  APPBECIATE  COMEDY 

LUCK  unljDoked  his  hat  from  his  knee,  brought 
his  laughing  jaws  together  with  that  eloquent, 
downward  tilt  to  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  sat  up 
straight,  considered  swiftly  the  possibilities  of  the 
next  half  hour,  and  paid  tribute  in  one  expressive 
word  of  four  letters  before  he  went  crawling  over 
half  a  dozen  pairs  of  knees  to  do  battle  for  his  pic- 
ture. His  picture,  you  understand.  For  since  he 
had  made  it  irresistible  comedy  instead  of  very  me- 
diocre drama,  he  felt  all  the  pride  of  creation 
in  his  work.  That  was  his  picture  that  had  set  the 
Acme  people  laughing, —  they  who  had  come  to  carp 
and  to  talk  knowingly  of  continuity  and  of  technique 
and  dramatic  values,  and  to  criticize  everything  from 
the  sets  to  the  photography.  It  was  his  picture;  he 
had  made  it  what  it  was.  So  he  went  as  a  champion 
rather  than  as  a  culprit  to  face  the  powers  above  him. 
Martinson  and  Bently  Brown  were  waiting  for 
him  near  the  door.  They  were  not  going  to  stay 


102        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

and  see  the  next  picture  run,  and  that,  in  Luck's 
opinion,  was  a  bad-weather  sign.  But  he  came  up 
to  them  cheerfully,  turning  his  hat  in  his  fingers  to 
find  the  front  of  it  before  he  set  it  on  his  head. 
(These  limp,  wool,  knockabout  hats  are  always  more 
or  less  confusing,  and  Luck  was  fastidious  about  his 
apparel.) 

"Ah  —  Mr.  Brown,  this  is  Mr.  Lindsay,  ah  — 
director  who  is  producing  your  stories."  Martin- 
son's tone  was  as  neutral  as  he  could  make  it. 

Luck  said  that  he  was  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Brown, 
which  was  a  lie.  At  the  same  instant  he  found  the 
etitched-down  bow  on  his  hat,  and  from  there  felt 
his  way  to  the  front.  At  the  same  time  he  decided 
that  there  was  going  to  be  something  doing  presently, 
if  Mart's  manner  meant  anything  at  all.  Mart  was 
a  peaceable  soul,  and  in  the  approaching  crisis  Luck 
knew  he  would  climb  hurriedly  upon  the  fence  of 
neutrality  and  stay  there;  and  Luck  could  fight  or 
climb  a  tree  as  he  chose. 

They  went  outside,  and  Luck  turned  his  eyes  side- 
wise  and  took  a  look  at  Bently  Brown.  He  meas- 
ured him  mentally  from  pigskin  puttees  to  rakish, 
stiff  brimmed  Stetson  with  careful  dimples  in  the 
crown  and  a  leather  hatband  stamped  with  horses' 


COMEDY  NOT  APPRECIATED    103 

heads  and  his  initials.  In  a  picture,  Luck  would 
have  cast  Bently  Brown,  costume  and  all,  for  a  com- 
edy mining  engineer  or  something  of  that  sort. 
You  know  the  type :  He  arrives  on  the  stage  that  is 
held  up,  and  is  always  in  the  employ  of  the  monied 
octopus,  and  the  cowboys  who  pursue  and  capture 
the  bandits  have  fun  afterwards  with  the  engineer, 
—  so  much  fun  that  he  crawls  out  of  an  up-stairs 
window  in  the  night  and  departs  hastily  and  forever 
from  that  place.  You  are  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  character,  I  am  sure. 

Luck,  after  that  swift,  comprehensive  glance,  was 
not  greatly  alarmed.  In  that  he  made  his  greatest 
blunder.  He  should  have  reckoned  with  the 
wounded  vanity  of  the  little  author  who  believes 
himself  great.  He  should  have  reminded  himself 
that  Bently  Brown  was  not  a  comedy  mining  engi- 
neer, but  that  touchiest  of  all  mortals,  the  nearly 
successful  author.  He  should  have  taken  warning 
from  the  stiff-necked,  stiff-backed  gait  of  Bently 
Brown  on  the  short  walk  to  the -office.  He  should 
have  read  danger  in  the  blinking  lids  of  his  pale 
eyes,  and  in  his  self-conscious  manner  of  looking 
straight  before  him. 

In  the  office,  then,  luck  basely  deserted  one  Luck 


104        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Lindsay,  and  left  him  to  fight  a  losing  battle.  For 
Bently  Brown  was  incensed,  insulted,  and  outraged 
over  the  manner  in  which  The  Soul  of  Littlefoot  Law 
had  been  filmed.  The  story  had  been  caricatured 
out  of  all  semblance  to  its  original  self.  Littlefoot 
Law  had  been  shown  as  having  no  soul  whatever. 
Instead  of  being  permitted  to  make  the  final,  su- 
preme sacrifice  of  his  life  for  the  honor  of  his  enemy, 
—  which  would  have  revealed  to  the  audience  his 
possession  of  a  clean  white  soul  in  spite  of  his  bad 
character, —  he  had  been  made  out  a  little  fiend  who 
would  shoot  you  on  the  slightest  provocation.  The 
girl  had  been  thrust  into  the  background,  and  the 
hero  had  been  made  into  a  coward  and  a  paltry  vil- 
lain; they  were  all  desperadoes  upon  the  screen. 
Never  in  his  life  had  Bently  Brown  been  made  to 
suffer  such  an  affront.  Never  had  he  dreamed  that 
his  work  would  be  made  a  thing  to  laugh  at  — 

"  They  certainly  did  laugh,"  Luck  lazily  inter- 
rupted. "  And  believe  me,  Mr.  Brown,  it  takes  real 
stuff  to  collect  a  laugh  out  of  that  bunch.  It  will  be 
a  riot  with  the  public;  you  can  bank  on  that.  By 
the  time  I  get  a  few  more  made  and  released,  you 
can  expect  to  see  your  name  in  the  papers  with- 
out paying  advertising  rates."  Whatever  possessed 


COMEDY  NOT  APPRECIATED     105 

Luck  to  talk  that  way  to  Bently  Brown,  I  cannot  say. 
He  surely  must  have  seen  that  the  little,  over-cos- 
tumed author  was  choking  with  spleen. 

"  It  was  a  farce !  "     The  small,  yellow  mustache^ 
of  Bently  Brown  was  twitching  comically  with  the 
tremble  of  his  lips  beneath.     "  A  bald,  unmitigated 
farce!" 

"  Surest  thing  you  know,"  Luck  agreed,  with  that 
little  chuckle  of  his.  "  At  first  I  was  afraid  the 
crowd  wouldn't  get  it ;  I  didn't  know  but  they  might 
try  to  take  it  seriously.  Now,  I  know  for  certain 
that  it  will  get  over.  It  will  be  the  cleanest,  funni- 
est, farce-comedy  series  that  has  ever  been  filmed." 
Luck  sat  up  straight  and  pulled  a  cigar  from  his 
pocket  and  looked  at  it  absent-mindedly.  "  Say, 
those  boys  of  mine  are  certainly  real  ones!  I 
wouldn't  trade  that  bunch  for  the  highest-salaried 
actors  you  could  hand  me.  Do  you  know  what  made 
that  picture  such  a  scream?  It  was  because  there 
wasn't  a  bit  of  made-to-order  comedy  business  in  the 
whole  film.  Those  boys  didn't  think  about  acting 
funny  just  to  make  folks  laugh.  They  were  so  dog- 
goned  busy  having  fun  with  the  story  and  showing 
up  its  weak  points  that  they  forgot  to  be  self-con- 
scious. If  I'd  had  a  regular  comedy  company  work- 


106        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ing  on  it,  believe  me,  Mr.  Brown,  it  might  have 
turned  out  almost  as  rotten  a  farce  as  it  would  be  as 
a  drama !  " 

Had  Bently  Brown  owned  under  his  pink  skin  any 
of  the  primitive  instincts  which  he  was  so  fond  of 
portraying  in  his  characters,  he  would  have  killed 
Luck  without  any  further  argument  or  delay. 

Instead  of  that  he  spluttered  and  stormed  like  a 
scolding  woman.  He  lifted  first  one  puttee  and 
then  the  other,  and  he  shook  his  fist,  and  he  nodded 
his  head  violently,  and  finally  was  constrained  to 
lift  the  leather-banded  Stetson  from  his  blond  hair 
and  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  brow  with  a  lav- 
ender initialed  handkerchief.  He  said  a  great  deal 
in  a  very  few  minutes,  but  it  was  too  involved,  too 
incoherent  to  be  repeated  here.  Luck  gathered, 
however,  that  he  meant  to  sue  the  Acme  Company 
for  about  nine  million  dollars  damages  to  his  feel- 
ings and  his  reputation,  if  The  Soul  of  Littlefoot 
Law  was  released  in  its  present  form.  He  battered 
at  Luck's  grinning  composure  with  his  full  supply 
of  invectives.  When  he  perceived  that  Luck's  eyes 
twinkled  more  and  more  while  they  watched  him, 
and  that  Luck's  smile  was  threatening  to  explode 
into  laughter,  Bently  Brown  shook  his  fist  at  the  two 


COMEDY  NOT  APPRECIATED    107 

of  them,  shrilled  something  about  seeing  his  lawyer 
at  once,  and  went  out  and  slammed  the  door. 

"  Lor-dee !  He'd  make  a  hit  in  comedy,  that  fel- 
low," Luck  observed  placidly,  and  lighted  the  cigar 
he  had  been  holding.  "  What's  he  mean  — '  sue  the 
company '  ? " 

"  He  means  sue  the  company,"  Martinson  retorted 
grimly.  "  That  clause  in  the  contract  where  we 
agree  to  produce  his  stories  in  a  manner  befitting  the 
quality  and  fame  of  these  several  stories  in  fiction; 
he's  got  grounds  for  action  there,  and  he's  going  to 
make  the  most  of  it.  He's  sore,  anyway.  Some 
one's  been  telling  him  he  practically  made  us  a  pres- 
ent of  his  stuff." 

"  Hell !  "  said  Luck.     "  Why  didn't  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  that  you  were  turning  that 
stuff  into  farce-comedy  ? "  Martinson  came  back 
sharply.  "  I  could  have  told  you  it  wouldn't  get  by. 
I  knew  Brown  wouldn't  stand  f or-anything  like  that ; 
and  I  knew  he  could  put  the  gaff  into  us  on  that 
'manner  befitting'  clause." 

"  It's  a  wonder  you  wouldn't  have  jarred  loose 
from  some  of  that  wisdom,"  Luck  observed  tartly. 
"  You  never  gave  me  any  dope  at  all  on  this  Bently 
Brown  person.  You  handed  me  the  junk  he  stung 


108        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

you  on  —  and  believe  me,  as  drama  he'd  have  stung 
you  with  it  as  a  present !  —  you  handed  it  to  me  to 
film.  I  made  the  most  of  it." 

"  You  made  a  mess  of  it,"  Martinson  corrected 
peevishly. 

"You  laughed,"  Luck  pointed  out  laconically. 
Then  his  eyes  twinkled  suddenly.  "  l  Laugh  and 
the  world  laughs  with  you,'  "  he  quoted  shamelessly, 
and  took  a  long,  satisfying  suck  at  his  cigar. 

"  The  world  won't  step  up  and  pay  damages  to 
Bently  Brown,"  Martinson  reminded  him,  "  if  that 
picture  is  released  as  it  stands.  How  many  have 
you  made,  so  far  ?  " 

"  I'm  finishing  the  third ;  getting  funnier,  too,  as 
they  go  along." 

"You've  got  to  cut  out  that  funny  business. 
You'll  have  to  retake  this  whole  thing,  Luck;  make 
it  straight  drama.  We  can't  afford  a  lawsuit,  these 
hard  times  —  and  injunctions  tying  up  the  releases, 
and  damages  to  pay  when  the  thing's  thrashed  out 
in  court  You'll  have  to  retake  this  whole  picture. 
!N^ce  bunch  of  useless  expense,  I  must  say,  when  I've 
been  chasing  nickels  off  the  expense  account  of  this 
company  and  sitting  up  nights  nursing  profits! 
We'll  have  to  cut  salaries  now,  to  break  even  on  this 


COMEDY  NOT  APPRECIATED    109 

fluke.  I've  left  the  payroll  alone  so  far.  That's  the 
worst  of  a  break  like  this.  The  whole  company  has 
got  to  pay  for  every  blunder  from  now  on." 

Luck's  eyes  hardened  while  he  listened.  He  did 
not  call  his  work  a  blunder,  and  the  charge  did  not 
sit  well  coming  from  another. 

"  Buy  off  Bently  Brown,"  he  advised  crisply. 
"  Offer  him  a  new  contract,  naming  this  stuff  as 
comedy.  Advertise  them  as  the  famous  comedies  of 
Bently  Brown,  the  well-known  author.  Show  him 
some  good  publicity  dope  along  that  line.  Give  him 
the  credit  of  making  the  stories  live  ones.  This 
series  will  be  a  money-maker,  and  a  big  one,  if  ever 
they  reach  the  screen.  You're  old  enough  in  the 
business  to  know  that,  Mart.  You  saw  how  this  film 
hit  the  bunch,  and  you  know  what  it  takes  to  rouse 
any  enthusiasm  in  the  projection  room.  And  take 
it  from  me,  Mart  —  this  is  straight !  —  that's  the 
only  way  in  God's  world  to  make  that  series  take 
hold  at  all.  As  drama  the  stuff  is  hopeless.  Abso- 
lutely hopeless.  It's  only  by  giving  it  the  twist  I 
gave  it  that  it  will  get  over.  You  do  that,  Mart. 
You  kid  this  Bently  Brown  into  being  featured  as 
the  humorist  of  the  age,  and  pay  him  a  little  some- 
thing for  swallowing  his  disappointment  as  a  dra- 


110        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

matic  author.  I'll  go  ahead  with  my  boys,  and  we'll 
deliver  the  goods.  You  do  that,  and  you'll  be  set- 
ting up  nights  counting  profits  instead  of  nursing 
them!" 

Martinson  began  to  stir  up  the  litter  on  his  desk, 
—  another  bad-weather  sign.  "  I  can't  waste  time 
talking  nonsense,"  he  snapped.  "  I've  got  plenty  to 
do  without  that.  That  stuff  has  got  to  be  retaken; 
every  foot  of  it,  if  you've  gone  on  burlesquing  the 
action.  I  happen  to  know  that  Brown  wouldn't  con- 
sider such  a  compromise.  You've  made  a  bad  break, 
and  I  believe  you  made  the  first  one  when  you 
brought  that  bunch  of  cowboys  back  with  you.  If 
they  can  do  straight  dramatic  acting,  all  right;  if 
not,  you'd  better  let  them  out  and  start  over  with 
professionals." 

For  a  peaceable  man,  Martinson  was  angry.  He 
had  taken  some  trouble  in  smoothing  down  the  ruf- 
fled temper  of  Bently  Brown,  even  before  viewing 
the  trial  run  of  the  picture.  Martinson  hated  dis- 
putes as  a  cat  hates  to  walk  in  fresh-fallen  snow,  and 
the  parting  tirade  of  Bently  Brown  had  affected  him 
unpleasantly. 

For  a  full  two  minutes  Luck  smoked  and  did  not 
speak,  and  as  he  had  done  once  before,  Martinson 


repented  his  harshness  when  it  was  too  late.  "  Per- 
sonally, your  version  struck  me  as  awfully  funny," 
he  began  placatingly. 

"  Who  gives  a  cuss  how  it  struck  you  personally  ?  " 
Luck  stood  up  with  unexpected  haste.  "  You  trim 
and  truckle  to  every  one  that  conies  along  with  a 
gold  brick,  and  that's  why  you  have  to  sit  up  nights 
to  nurse  the  profits.  If  you  had  a  little  stiffening 
in  your  back,  the  profits  would  show  up  better.  You 
paid  good  money  for  this  bunch  of  rot,  and  turned  it 
over  to  me  to  whip  into  a  profitable  investment. 
You  can  make  the  rounds  of  the  studio  and  get  a  vote 
on  whether  I've  done  it  or  not.  Put  it  up  to  your 
Public;  they'll  mighty  soon  let  you  know  whether 
the  film's  a  money-getter.  If  it  is,  your  business  as 
general  manager  and  president  of  the  Acme  Film 
Company  is  to  get  Bently  Brown  in  line  for  the  pro- 
duction to  go  on.  A  clause  such  as  you  mention  in 
the  agreement  with  him  shows  a  bigger  blunder  on 
your  part  than  anything  I've  done  or  ever  will  do. 
If  you'd  had  as  much  sense  as  Ted,  you'd  have  kept 
that  clause  out  If  you'd  had  half  as  much  brains 
as  the  comedy  burro  out  in  the  corral  you'd  never 
have  loaded  up  with  that  stuff,  anyway;  you'd  have 
seen  at  a  glance  that  it  was  rotten. 


112        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  Now,  I've  shown  what  I  can  do  with  those  sto- 
ries. I've  taken  your  bad  bargain  and  put  it  into  a 
money-making  shape.  As  to  the  break  I  made  in 
getting  those  boys  out  here,  you'll  have  to  show  me 
—  that's  all.  They  seem  to  have  made  good  all 
right,  judging  from  the  way  that  film  took  with  the 
crowd.  And  if  you  ask  my  opinion  as  a  director, 
they  beat  any  near-professional  on  the  Acme  pay 
roll.  My  work,  and  their  work,  goes  right  along  as 
it  has  started  —  or  it  stops.  If  you  want  those  sto- 
ries worked  up  in  a  lot  of  darned,  sickly,  slush  melo- 
drama, you  can  set  some  simp  at  it  that  don't  know 
any  better."  Luck  stopped  and  shut  his  teeth  to- 
gether against  some  personal  remarks  that  he  would 
later  feel  ashamed  of  having  uttered.  He  turned  to 
the  door,  swallowed  hard,  and  forced  himself  to  a 
dignified  calm  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  You  know  my  phone  number,  Mart.  By  seven 
in  the  morning  I'll  expect  to  hear  from  you.  You 
can  tell  me  then  whether  I'm  to  go  ahead  with  these 
stories  the  way  I've  started,  or  whether  to  pull  out 
of  the  Company  altogether.  One  or  the  other.  I'll 
want  to  know  in  the  morning."  Then  he  went 
out. 

"  Dammit,  who's  running  this  company  —  you  or 


COMEDY  NOT  APPRECIATED    113 

I  ? "  Martinson  called  after  him  heatedly.  33ut 
Luck  was  already  standing  on  the  steps  and  hoisting 
his  umbrella  against  the  drizzle,  and  he  did  not  give 
any  sign  that  he  heard. 


CHAPTEE  EIGHT 
"  THERE'S  GOT  TO  BE  A  LINE  DBAWED  SOMEWHEBES  " 

BY  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning, —  since  that 
was  his  ultimatum, —  Luck  was  standing  in  his 
bare  feet  and  pajamas,  acrimoniously  arguing  with 
Martinson  over  the  telephone.  Usually  he  was  up 
at  six,  but  he  was  a  stubborn  young  man,  and  the  day 
promised,  much  rainfall,  anyway.  He  would  have 
preferred  sunshine;  the  stand  he  meant  to  take 
would  have  had  more  weight  in  working  weather. 
But  since  he  could  not  prevent  the  morning  from 
being  a  rainy  one,  he  permitted  more  determination 
to  slip  into  his  tones. 

Martinson  had  spent  an  unpleasant  evening  with 
Bently  Brown,  or  so  he  declared.  He  had  called  up 
several  stockholders  of  the  Acme,  and  had  talked  the 
matter  over  with  them,  and  — 

"Well,  cut  the  preamble,  Mart,"  snapped  Luck, 
trying  to  warm  one  foot  by  rubbing  it  with  the  other 
one.  "  Do  I  go  on  with  the  work,  or  don't  I  ?  " 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  115 

"From  the  looks  of  the  weather — •"  Mart  began 
to  temporize. 

"  Weather  cuts  no  figure  with  this  matter.  You 
know  what  I  mean.  What's  the  decision  ?  "  Luck 
scowled  at  the  pretty  girl  on  his  wall  calendar,  and 
began  to  rub  his  right  foot  with  the  left  and  to  curse 
the  janitor  with  that  part  of  his  brain  not  occupied 
with  the  conversation. 

"  Well,  listen.  You  come  out  to  the  office,  after 
awhile,  and  we'll  go  into  this  matter  calmly,"  begged 
Martinson.  "  £To  use  in  letting  that  temper  of  yours 
run  away  with  you,  Luck.  You  know  we  all  — " 

"  What  did  Bently  Brown  say  ?  Did  you  put  the 
proposition  up  to  him  as  I  suggested  ? " 

"  Luck,  you  know  I  told  you  Brown  wouldn't  con- 
sider—" 

"  Say,  Mart,  get  all  those  rambling  words  out  of 
your  system,  and  then  call  me  up  and  tell  me  what  I 
want  to  know ! "  And  Luck  hung  up  the  receiver 
and  went  shivering  back  to  bed.  From  the  things  he 
said  to  himself,  he  was  letting  that  temper  of  his  run 
away  with  him  in  spite  of  Martinson's  warning. 

He  had  just  ceased  having  spasms  of  shivering, 
and  had  found  his  warm  nest  of  the  night,  and  was 
feeling  glad  that  it  was  raining  so  that  he  could  stay 


116        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

in  bed  as  long  as  he  liked,  when  the  phone  jingled 
shrilly  again.  Had  he  been  certain  that  it  was  Mar- 
tinson, Luck  would  have  lain  there  and  let  it  ring  it- 
self tired.  But  there  is  always  the  doubt  when  a 
telephone  bell  calls  peremptorily.  He  waited  sulkily 
until  the  girl  at  the  switchboard  in  the  office  below 
settled  down  to  prolong  the  siege.  Luck  knew  that 
girl  would  never  quit  now  that  she  was  sure  he  was 
in.  He  crawled  out  again,  this  time  dragging  the 
bedspread  with  him  for  drapery. 

"  H'l-lo ! "  There  was  no  compromise  in  his 
voice,  which  was  gutturaL 

"  Luck  ?  This  is  Martinson.  You  are  to  retake 
all  of  the  Bently  Brown  pictures  which  you  have 
made  so  far,  under  the  personal  supervision  of  Bently 
Brown  himself,  who  will  pass  upon  all  film  before 
accepted  by  the  company.  This  is  final." 

"Martinson?  This  is  Luck.  You  and  Bently 
Brown  and  the  Acme  Film  Company  can  go  where 
the  heat's  never  turned  off.  This  is  final." 

Whereupon  Luck  slammed  the  receiver  into  its 
brackets,  trailed  over  to  a  table  and  gleaned  "the 
makings  "  from  among  the  litter  of  papers,  programs, 
"  stills,"  and  letters,  and  rolled  himself  a  much- 
needed  smoke.  He  was  sorry  chiefly  because  he  had 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  117 

been  compelled  to  use  such  mild  language  over  the 
telephone.  It  would  be  almost  worth  a  trip  to  the 
office  just  to  tell  Martinson  without  stint  what  he 
(thought  of  him  and  all  his  works. 

He  crawled  back  into  bed  and  smoked  his  cigarette 
with  due  regard  for  the  bedclothes,  and  wondered 
what  kind  of  a  fool  they  took  him  for  if  they  imag- 
ined for  one  minute  that  he  would  produce  so  much 
as  a  sub-title  under  the  personal  supervision  of  Ben- 
tly  Brown. 

After  awhile  it  occurred  to  him  that,  unless  he  r& 
lented  from  his  final  statement  to  Martinson,  he  was 
a  young  man  out  of  a  job,  but  that  did  not  worry  him 
much.  Of  course,  if  he  left  the  Acme  Company,  he 
would  have  to  look  around  for  an  opening  somewhere 
else,  where  he  could  take  his  Happy  Family  and 
maybe  produce.  .  .  . 

Right  there  Luck  got  up  and  unlocked  his  trunk, 
which  was  also  his  chest  of  treasures,  and  found  the 
carbon  copy  of  his  range  scenario.  He  had  not 
named  it  yet.  In  thinking  of  it  and  in  talking  about 
it  with  the  boys  he  had  been  content  to  call  it  his 
Big  Picture.  If  he  could  place  himself  and  his 
Big  Picture  and  his  boys  with  some  company  that 
would  appreciate  the  value  of  the  combination,  his 


118        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

rupture  with  the  Acme  Company  would  be  simply 
a  bit  of  good  luck.  While  he  huddled  close  to  the 
radiator  that  was  beginning  to  hiss  and  rumble  en- 
couragingly, he  glanced  rapidly  over  the  meagerly 
described  scenes  which  were  to  his  imagination  BO 
full  of  color. 

"Pam.  bleak  mesa  —  snow  —  cattle  drifting  be- 
fore wind.  Dale  and  Johnny  dis.  riding  to  fore- 
ground. Reg.  cold  —  horses  leg-weary  —  boys  all 
in—" 

To  Luck,  sitting  there  in  his  pajamas  as  close  aa 
he  could  get  to  a  slow-warming  steam  radiator,  those 
curtailed  sentences  projected  his  mental  self  into  a 
land  of  cold  and  snow  and  biting  wind,  where  the 
cattle  drifted  dismally  before  the  storm.  Andy 
Green  and  Miguel  Rapponi  were  riding  slowly  to- 
ward him  on  shuffling  horses  as  bone-weary  as  their 
masters.  Snow  was  packed  in  the  wrinkles  of  the 
boys'  clothing.  Snow  was  packed  in  the  manes  and 
tails  of  the  horses  that  moved  with  their  heads  droop- 
ing in  utter  dejection.  "Boys  all  in,"  said  the 
script  laconically.  Luck,  staring  at  the  little  thread 
of  escaping  steam  from  the  radiator  valve,  saw  Andy 
and  the  Native  Son  drooping  in  the  saddles,  sway- 
ing stiffly  with  the  movements  of  their  mounts.  He 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  119 

saw  them  to  the  last  little  detail, —  to  the  drift  of 
snow  on  their  hatbrims  and  the  tiny  icicles  clinging 
to  the  high  collars  of  their  sourdough  coats,  where 
their  breath  had  frozen. 

If  he  could  get  a  company  to  let  him  put  that  on, 
he  would  not  care,  he  told  himself,  if  he  never  made 
another  picture  in  his  life.  If  he  could  get  a  com- 
pany to  send  him  and  the  boys  where  that  stuff  could 
be  found  — 

Well,  it  was  only  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a 
rainy  morning  at  that,  when  all  good  movie  people 
would  lie  late  in  bed  for  the  pure  luxury  of  taking 
their  ease.  But  Luck,  besides  acting  upon  strong 
convictions  and  then  paying  the  price  without  whim- 
pering, never  let  an  impulse  grow  stale  from  want  of 
use.  He  reached  for  the  fat  telephone  directory  and 
searched  out  the  numbers  of  those  motion-picture 
companies  which  he  did  not  >,  remember  readily. 
Then,  beginning  at  the  first  number  on  his  hastily 
compiled  list,  he  woke  five  different  managers  out  of 
their  precious  eight-o'clock  sleep  to  answer  his  ques- 
tions. 

Whatever  they  may  have  thought  of  Luck  Lindsay 
just  then,  they  replied  politely,  and  did  not  tell  him 
offhand  that  there  was  no  possible  opening  for  him 


120       THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

in  their  companies.  Three  of  them  made  appoint- 
ments with  him  at  their  offices.  One  promised  to 
call  him  up  just  as  soon  as  he  "  had  a  line  on  any- 
thing." One  said  that,  with  the  rainy  weather  com- 
ing on,  they  were  cutting  down  to  straight  studio 
stuff,  but  that  he  would  keep  Luck  in  mind  if  any- 
thing turned  up. 

Then  I  suppose  the  whole  five  called  him  names 
behind  his  back,  figuratively  speaking,  for  being  such 
an  early  riser  on  such  a  day.  Not  one  of  them  asked 
him  any  questions  about  his  reasons  for  leaving  the 
Acme;  reasons,  in  the  motion-picture  business,  are 
generally  invented  upon  demand  and  have  but  a  fic- 
titious value  at  best.  And  since  it  is  never  a  matter 
of  surprise  when  any  director  or  any  member  of  any 
company  decides  to  try  a  new  field,  it  would  seem 
that  change  is  one  of  the  most  unchanging  features  of 
the  business. 

Luck  had  no  qualms  of  conscience,  either  for  his 
treatment  of  Martinson  and  his  overtures,  or  for  his 
disturbances  of  five  other  perfectly  inoffensive  movie 
managers.  He  dressed  with  mechanical  precision 
and  with  his  mind  shuttling  back  and  forth  from  his 
Big  Picture  to  the  possibilities  of  his  next  position. 
He  folded  his  scenario  and  placed  it  in  a  long  envel- 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERE S  121 

ope,  hunted  until  he  found  his  rubbers,  took  his 
raincoat  over  his  arm  and  his  umbrella  in  his  hand, 
and  went  blithely  to  the  elevator.  It  was  too  stormy 
for  his  machine,  so  he  caught  a  street  car  and  went 
straight  to  the  bungalow  where  the  Happy  Family 
were  still  snoring  at  peace  with  the  world  and  each 
other. 

Still  Luck  had  no  qualms  of  conscience.  He  lin- 
gered in  the  kitchen  just  long  enough  to  say  howdy 
to  [Rosemary  Green  who  was  anxiously  watching  a 
new  and  much  admired  coffee  percolator  "  to  see  if  it 
were  going  to  perk,"  she  told  him  gravely.  He  as- 
sured Eosemary  that  he  had  come  all  the  way  out 
there  in  the  hope  of  being  invited  to  breakfast. 
Then  he  went  into  a  sleep-charged  atmosphere  and 
gave  a  real,  old-time  range  yell. 

"Why,  I  saw  that  peaked  little  person  with  Mr. 
Martinson,"  Mrs.  Andy  remarked  slightingly  at  the 
breakfast  table.  "  Was  that  Bently  Brown  ?  And 
he  has  the  nerve  to  want  to  stand  around  and  boss 
you  —  oh,  find  me  an  umbrella,  somebody !  I  shall 
choke  if  I  can't  go  and  tell  him  to  his  silly,  pink  face 
what  a  conceited  little  idiot  he  is !  "  (You  will  see 
why  it  was  that  Eosemary  Green  had  been  adopted 
without  question  as  a  member  of  the  Happy  Family.) 


122        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  I  hope  you  told  him  straight  out,  Luck  Lindsay, 
that  these  boys  would  simply  tear  him  limb  from  limb 
if  he  ever  dared  to  butt  in  on  your  work.  Why,  it's 
you  that  made  the  picture  fit  to  look  at !  " 

Luck  let  his  eyes  thank  her  for  her  loyalty,  and 
held  out  his  empty  cup  for  more  coffee.  "  I  came 
out,"  he  drawled  quietly,  "to  find  out  what  you 
fellows  are  going  to  do  about  it.  Of  course,  they'll 
get  somebody  else  to  go  ahead  with  the  stuff,  and  you 
boys  can  stay  with  it  — " 

"  Well,  say !  Did  you  come  away  out  here  in  the 
rain  to  insult  us  fellers  ? "  Big  Medicine  roared 
suddenly  from  the  foot  of  the  table.  "  I'll  take  a  lot 
from  you,  but  by  cripes  they's  got  to  be  a  line  drawed 
somewheres !  " 

"  You  bet.  And  right  there's  where  we  draw  it, 
Luck,"  spoke  up  the  dried  little  man  who  seldom 
spoke  at  the  table,  but  concentrated  his  attention 
upon  the  joy  of  eating  what  Mrs.  Andy  set  before 
him.  "  I  come  out  here  to  work  for  you.  That  pe- 
ters out,  by  gorry  I'll  go  back  to  chufferin  a  baggage 
truck  in  Sioux,  North  Dakoty.  Kin  I  have  a  drop 
more  coffee,  Mrs.  Green  ?  " 

While  Rosemary  proudly  brought  her  new  perco- 
lator in  from  the  kitchen  and  refilled  his  cup,  Luck 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  123 

Lindsay  sat  and  endured  the  greatest  tongue-lashing 
of  his  life.  Furthermore,  he  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
chorus  of  reproaches  and  threats  and  recriminations. 
He  chuckled  over  the  eloquence  of  Andy  Green,  and 
he  grinned  at  the  belligerence  of  Pink  and  the  melan 
choly  of  Happy  Jack. 

"  I  don't  guess  you're  crazy  to  work  under  Bently 
Brown,"  he  finally  managed  to  slide  into  the  uproar. 
"  Do  I  get  you  as  meaning  to  stick  with  me  —  wher- 
ever I  go  ?  " 

"  You  get  us  that  way  or  you  get  licked,"  Weary, 
the  mild-tempered  one,  stated  flatly.  "  You  can  fire 
us  and  send  us  home,  but  you  can't  walk  off  and  leave 
us  with  the  Acme,  'cause  we  won't  stay." 

That  was  what  Luck  had  ridden  twelve  cold,  rainy 
miles  to  hear  the  Happy  Family  declare.  He  had 
expected  them  to  take  that  stand,  but  it  was  good  to 
hear  it  spoken  in  just  that  tone  of  finality.  He 
stacked  his  cup  and  saucer  in  his  plate,  laid  his  knife 
and  fork  across  them  in  the  old  range  style,  and  be- 
gan to  roll  a  cigarette, —  smoking  at  the  table  being 
another  comfortable  little  bad  habit  which  Eosemary 
Green  wisely  and  smilingly  permitted. 

"  That  being  the  case,"  he  began  cheerfully,  "  you 
boys  had  best  go  over  with  me  now  and  give  in  your 


124        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

two  weeks'  notice.  I'm  director  of  our  company 
till  I  quit  —  see?  I'll  arrange  for  your  transpor- 
tation home  — " 

"  Aw,  gwan !  Who  said  we  was  goin'  home  ?  " 
wailed  Happy  Jack  distressfully. 

"  Now,  listen !  You're  entitled  to  your  trans- 
portation money.  That  doesn't  mean  you'll  have  to 
use  it  for  that  purpose  —  sabe  ?  It's  coming  to  you, 
and  you  get  it.  There's  a  week's  salary  due  all 
around,  too,  besides  the  two  weeks  you'll  get  by  giving 
notice.  ]^o  use  passing  up  any  bets  like  that.  So 
let's  go,  boys.  I've  got  an  appointment  at  one 
o'clock,  and  I  may  as  well  wipe  the  Acme  slate  clean 
this  forenoon,  so  I  can  talk  business  without  any 
come-back  from  Mart,  or  any  tag  ends  to  pick  up. 
Grab  your  slickers  and  let's  move." 

That  was  a  busy  day  for  Luck  Lindsay,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  it  was  a  stormy  one.  His  interview 
with  Mart,  which  he  endured  mostly  for  the  sake  of 
the  Happy  Family,  developed  into  a  quarrel  which 
severed  beyond  mending  his  connection  with  the 
Acme. 

It  was  noon  when  he  reached  his  hotel,  and  his 
wrath  had  not  cooled  with  the  trip  into  town.  There 
were  two  'phone  calls  in  his  mail,  he  discovered,  and 


LINE  DRAWED  SOME  WHERE  S  125 

one  bore  an  urgent  request  that  he  call  Hollywood 
something-or-other  the  moment  he  returned.  This 
was  from  the  Great  Western  Film  Company,  and 
Luck's  eyes  brightened  while  he  read  it.  He  went 
straight  to  his  room  and  called  up  the  Great  Western. 
Presently  he  found  himself  speaking  to  the  great 
.Dewitt  himself,  and  his  blood  was  racing  with  the 
possibilities  of  the  interview.  Dewitt  had  heard  that 
Luck  was  leaving  the  Acme  —  extras  may  be  de- 
pended upon  for  carrying  gossip  from  one  studio  to 
another, —  and  was  wasting  no  time  in  offering  him 
a  position.  His  Western  director,  Robert  Grant 
Burns  whom  Luck  knew  well,  had  been  carried  to  the 
hospital  with  typhoid  fever  which  he  had  contracted 
while  out  with  his  company  in  what  is  known  as 
Nigger  Sloughs, —  a  locality  more  picturesque  than 
healthful.  Dewitt  feared  that  it  was  going  to  be  a 
long  illness  at  the  very  best.  N  Would  Luck  consider 
taking  the  company  and  going  on  with  the  big  five- 
reel  feature  which  Burns  had  just  begun?  Dewitt 
was  prepared  to  offer  special  inducements  and  to 
make  the  position  a  permanent  one.  He  would  give 
Burns  a  dramatic  company  to  produce  features  at 
the  studio,  he  said,  and  would  give  Luck  the  privilege 
of  choosing  his  own  scenarios  and  producing  them  in 


126        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

his  own  way.  Could  Luck  arrange  to  meet  Dewitt 
at  four  that  afternoon  ? 

Luck  could,  by  cancelling  his  appointment  with  a 
smaller  and  less  important  company,  which  he  did 
promptly  and  with  no  compunctions  whatever.  He 
did  more  than  that;  he  postponed  the  other  two  ap- 
pointments, knowing  in  his  heart  that  his  chances 
would  not  be  lessened  thereby.  After  that  he  built  a 
castle  or  two  while  he  waited  for  the  appointment. 
The  Great  Western  Company  had  been  a  step  higher 
than  he  had  hoped  to  reach.  Robert  Grant  Burns  he 
had  considered  a  fixture  with  the  company.  It  had 
never  entered  his  mind  that  he  might  possibly  land 
within  the  Great  Western's  high  concrete  wall, —  and 
that  other  wall  which  was  higher  and  had  fewer  gates, 
and  which  was  invisible  withal.  That  the  great  De- 
witt himself  should  seek  Luck  out  was  just  a  bit 
staggering.  He  wanted  to  go  out  and  tell  the  bunch 
about  it,  but  he  decided  to  wait  until  everything  was 
settled.  Most  of  all  he  wanted  the  Acme  to  know 
that  Dewitt  wanted  him ;  that  would  be  a  real  slap  in 
the  face  of  Mart's  judgment,  a  vindication  of  Luck's 
abilities  as  a  director. 

What  Luck  did  was  to  telephone  the  hospital  and 
learn  all  he  could  about  Burns'  condition.  He  was 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  127 

genuinely  sorry  that  Burns  was  sick,  even  though  he 
was  mightily  proud  of  being  chosen  as  Burns'  suc- 
cessor. He  even  found  himself  thinking  more  about 
Burns,  after  the  first  inner  excitement  wore  itself  out, 
than  about  himself.  Burns  was  a  good  old  scout. 
Luck  hated  to  think  of  him  lying  helpless  in  the  grip 
of  typhoid.  So  it  was  with  mixed  emotions  that  he 
went  to  see  Dewitt. 

Dewitt  wanted  Luck  —  wanted  him  badly.  He 
was  frank  enough  to  let  Luck  see  how  much  he  wanted 
him.  He  even  told  Luck  that,  all  things  being  equal,, 
he  considered  Luck  a  better  Western  director  than 
was  Kobert  Grant  Burns,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that; 
Burns  had  scored  a  big  success  with  his  Jean,  of  tTi& 
Lazy  A  serial.  You  cannot  wonder  that  Luck's 
spirits  rose  to  buoyancy  when  he  heard  that.  Also, 
Dewitt  named  a  salary  bigger  than  Luck  had  ever  re- 
ceived in  his  life,  and  nearly  double  what  the  Acme 
had  paid  him.  Luck  spoke  of  his  Big  Picture,  and 
when  he  outlined  it  briefly,  Dewitt  did  not  say  that 
it  seemed  to  lack  action. 

Dewitt  had  watched  Luck  with  his  keen  blue  eyes, 
and  had  observed  that  Luck  owned  that  priceless 
element  of  success,  which  is  enthusiasm  for  his  work. 
Dewitt  had  listened,  and  had  told  Luck  that  he  would 


128        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

like  to  see  the  Big  Picture  go  on  the  screen,  and  that 
lie  would  be  willing  to  pay  him  for  the  scenario  and 
let  him  make  it  where  and  how  he  pleased.  He  even 
volunteered  to  try  and  persuade  Jean  Douglas,  of 
Lazy  A  fame,  to  come  back  and  play  the  leading 
woman's  part 

"  That's  one  thing  that  has  been  bothering  me  a 
little,"  Luck  owned  gratefully.  "  Of  course  I  con- 
sidered her  absolutely  out  of  reach.  But  with  her 
for  my  leading  woman,  and  the  boys  holding  up  the 
range  end  as  they're  capable  of  doing  — " 

Dewitt  gave  him  a  quick  look.  "Yes,  my  boys 
are  able  to  do  that,"  he  said  distinctly.  "  They  have 
been  well  trained  in  Western  dramatic  work." 

Luck  braced  himself.  "  When  I  mentioned  the 
boys,"  he  said,  "I  meant  my  boys  that  I  brought 
from  the  Flying  U  outfit,  up  in.  Montana.  They  go 
with  me." 

Dewitt  did  not  answer  that  statement  immediately. 
He  inspected  his  finger  nails  thoughtfully  before  he 
glanced  up.  "  It's  a  pity,  but  I'm  afraid  that  cannot 
be  managed,  Mr.  Lindsay.  The  boys  in  my  Western 
company  have  been  with  me,  some  of  them,  since  the 
Independent  Sales  Company  was  organized.  They 
worked  for  next  to  nothing  till  I  got  things  started. 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  129 

Two  or  three  are  under  contracts.  You  will  under- 
stand me  when  I  say  that  my  boys  must  stay  where 
they  are."  He  waited  for  a  minute,  and  watched 
Luck's  face  grow  sober.  "  I  have  heard  about  your 
\  Happy  Family,"  he  added.  "  There  has  been  a  good 
deal  of  discussion,  I  imagine,  among  the  studios 
about  them.  Ordinarily  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
you  bring  those  boys  with  you ;  but  as  matters  stand, 
it  is  impossibla  Our  Western  Company  is  full,  and 
I  could  not  let  these  boys  go  to  make  room  for 
strangers, —  however  good  those  strangers  might  be. 
You  understand  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  understand."  But  Luck's  face  did 
not  brighten. 

"  Can't  they  stay  on  with  the  Acme  ?  From  what 
I  hear,  the  Acme's  Western  Company  is  not  large  at 
best." 

"  They  can  stay,  yes.  But  they  won't.  The 
whole  bunch  gave  in  their  two  weeks'  notice  this 
morning."  There  was  a  grim  satisfaction  in  Luck's 
vtone. 

"  Left  when  you  did,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  That's  just  exactly  what  they  did.  I  told  them 
they  better  stay,  and  they  nearly  lynched  me  for  it." 

"  Have  you  made  any  agreement  with  them  in  re- 


130        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

gard  to  placing  them  with  another  company  —  for 
instance  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  Some  things  don't  have  to  be 
set  down  in  black  and  white." 

"I  —  see."  Dewitt  did  see.  "What  he  saw  wor- 
ried him,  even  though  it  increased  his  respect  for 
Luck  Lindsay.  He  studied  his  nails  more  critically 
than  before. 

"  These  boys  —  have  they  any  resources  at  all, 
other  than  their  work  in  pictures?  Did  they  burn 
their  bridges  when  they  came  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  far  as  that  goes,  they've  all  got  ranches. 
They  wouldn't  starve."  Luck's  voice  was  inclined 
to  gruffness  under  quizzing. 

"  As  I  see  the  situation,"  Dewitt  went  on  evenly 
and  with  a  logic  that  made  Luck  squirm  with  its  very 
truthfulness,  "  they  left  their  ranches  and  came  with 
you  to  work  in  pictures  in  a  spirit  of  adventure,  we 
might  say.  There  is  a  glamour;  and  your  personal 
influence,  your  enthusiasm,  had  its  effect.  Should 
they  go  back  to  their  ranches  now,  they  would  carry 
back  a  fresh  outlook  and  a  fund  of  experiences  that 
would  season  conversation  agreeably  for  months  to 
come.  They  will  not  have  lost  financially,  I  take 
it.  They  will  have  had  a  vacation  which  has  in 


LINE  DRAWED  SOME  WHERE  S  131 

many  ways  been  a  profitable  one.  Should  the  ques- 
tion be  laid  before  them,  I  venture  the  assertion  that 
they  would  urge  you  to  take  this  position  with  us. 
They  would  feel  some  disappointment  of  course  — 
just  as  you  would  feel  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  bring 
them  with  you.  But  no  reasonable  man  would  blame 
you  or  expect  you  to  bear  the  handicap  of  six  or 
seven  inexperienced  young  fellows.  You  must  see 
that  your  only  hope  of  placing  them  would  be  with 
some  new  company  just  starting  up.  And  this  is  not 
the  season  for  young  companies.  Next  spring  you 
might  stand  a  better  chance." 

"  Yes,  that's  all  true  enough,"  Luck  admitted, 
since  Dewitt  plainly  expected  some  reply.  "  At  the 
same  time — " 

"  There  is  no  immediate  need  of  a  decision,"  De- 
witt hastily  completed  Luck's  sentence.  "  From  all 
weather  reports,  this  storm  is  going  to  be  a  long  one. 
I  doubt  very  much  if  you  could  get  to  work  for 
several  days.  I  wish  you  would  think  it  over  from 
all  sides  before  you  accept  or  refuse  the  proposition, 
Mr.  Lindsay.  Lay  the  matter  before  your  boys ;  tell 
them  frankly  just  how  things  stand.  I'll  guarantee 
they  will  insist  upon  your  accepting  the  position.  I 
know,  and  you  know,  that  it  will  give  you  a  better 


opportunity  than  you  have  had  in  some  time.  And 
I  am  going  to  say  candidly  that  I  believe  you  need 
only  the  opportunity  to  make  your  work  stand  out 
above  all  the  others.  That  is  why  I  sent  for  you 
this  morning.  I  believe  you  have  big  possibilities, 
and  I  want  you  with  the  Great  Western." 

There  was  that  instant  of  silence  which  terminates 
all  conferences.  Then  Luck  rose,  and  Dewitt  tilted 
back  his  office  chair  and  swung  it  away  from  the 
desk  so  that  he  was  still  facing  Luck.  So  the  two 
looked  at  each  other  measuringly  for  a  moment. 

"  I  certainly  appreciate  your  good  opinion  of  me, 
Mr.  Dewitt,"  Luck  said.  "  Whether  I  take  the  place 
or  not,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  offering  it  to  me.  It 
all  looks  fine  —  the  chance  of  my  life ;  but  I  can't  — " 

"No,  don't  say  any  more."  Dewitt  raised  his 
hand.  "  You  do  as  I  suggest;  tell  the  boys  just  what 
has  passed,  if  you  like.  Let  them  decide  for  you." 

"No,  that  wouldn't  be  fair.  They'd  decide  for 
my  interests  and  forget  about  their  own.  I  know^ 
that" 

"  Well,  let's  just  wait  a  day  or  two.  You  think  it 
over.  Think  what  you  could  do  with  Jean  Douglas, 
for  instance.  I'll  try  and  get  her  back ;  I  think  per- 
haps I  can.  She's  married,  but  I  think  they'll  both! 


LINE  DRAWED  SOMEWHERES  133 

come  if  I  make  it  worth  their  whila  Come  and  see 
me  day  after  to-morrow,  will  you?  We'll  say  four 
o'clock  again.  Good-by." 

So  Luck  went  away  with  temptation  whispering  in 
his  ear. 


CHAPTER  ETIKE 

LEAVE    IT    TO    THE   BUNCH 

NOT  a  word  did  Luck  say  to  the  Happy  Family 
about  his  big  opportunity.  Instead,  he  avoided 
them  half  guiltily,  and  he  filled  the  next  day  and  the 
one  after  that  by  seeing,  or  trying  to  see,  the  head 
of  every  motion  picture  company  in  that  part  of  the 
State.  He  even  sent  a  night  letter  to  a  big  com- 
pany at  Santa  Barbara.  Always  he  stipulated  that 
he  must  take  his  own  cowboys  with  him  and  have  a 
free  hand  in  the  production  of  Western  pictures  — 
since  he  did  not  mean  to  risk  having  another  irate 
author  descend  upon  him  with  threats  of  a  lawsuit. 

By  three  o'clock  of  the  day  when  he  was  to  give 
Dewitt  his  decision,  Luck  was  convinced  that  the  two 
conditions  he  never  failed  to  mention  were  as  two 
iron  bars  across  every  trail  that  might  otherwise 
have  been  open  to  him.  ~No  motion  picture  company 
seemed  to  feel  that  it  needed  seven  inexperienced 
men  on  its  payroll.  A  few  general  managers  sug- 
gested letting  them  work  as  extras,  but  the  majority; 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     135 

could  not  see  the  proposition  at  all.  They  were 
more  willing  to  give  Luck  the  free  hand  which  he  de- 
manded, had  negotiations  ever  reached  that  far, 
which  they  did  not. 

The  Happy  Family,  Luck  was  forced  to  admit 
to  himself,  was  a  very  serious  handicap  for  an  out- 
of-work  director  to  carry  at  the  beginning  of  the 
rainy  season.  He  did  his  best,  and  he  spent  two 
sleepless  nights  over  the  doing,  but  he  simply  could 
not  land  them  anywhere.  He  talked  himself  hoarse 
for  them,  he  painted  them  geniuses  all;  he  declared 
that  they  would  make  themselves  and  their  company 
—  supposing  they  were  accepted  —  famous  for 
Western  pictures.  He  worked  harder  to  place  them 
in  the  business  than  he  would  ever  work  to  find 
himself  a  job,  and  he  failed  absolutely. 

Dewitt's  eyes  questioned  him  the  moment  he  stood 
inside  the  office.  Dewitt  had  ,heard  something  of 
Luck's  efforts  since  their  last  meeting ;  and  although 
(he  admired  Luck  the  more  for  his  loyalty,  he  felt 
quite  certain  that  now  he  was  convinced  of  his  defeat, 
Luck  would  hesitate  no  longer  over  stepping  into  the 
official  shoes  of  Robert  Grant  Burns,  who  was  lying 
on  his  broad  back,  and  shouting  pitifully  futile  com- 
mands to  his  company  and  asking  an  imaginary 


136        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

camera-man  questions  which  were  as  Greek  to  the 
soft-footed  nurse.  Dewitt,  having  just  come  from  a 
visit  to  Burns,  had  a  vivid  mental  picture  of  that 
ward  in  the  Sister's  hospital.  But  alongside  that 
picture  was  another,  quite  as  vivid,  of  Luck  Lindsay 
standing  beside  Pete  Lowry's  camera  with  a  script 
in  his  hand,  explaining  to  Jean  Douglas  the  business 
of  some  particular  scene. 

"  Well  ?  "  queried  Dewitt,  and  motioned  Luck  to  a 
chair. 

"Well,"  Luck  echoed,  and  stopped  for  a  breath. 
"  No  use  wasting  time,  Mr.  Dewitt  I  can't  take 
any  position  that  doesn't  include  the  Flying  IT  boys. 
I'm  certainly  sorry  that  prevents  my  accepting  your 
offer.  I  appreciate  all  it  would  mean  for  me  and  for 
my  Big  Picture  to  be  with  you.  But  —  some  things 
mean  more — " 

"  You're  under  no  obligations  to  tie  your  own 
hands  just  because  theirs  are  not  free,''  Dewitt  re- 
minded him  sharply. 

"  I  know  I'm  not" 

"  Can  you  figure  where  it  will  be  to  their  advantage 
for  you  to  refuse  a  good  position  just  because  they 
happen  to  be  out  of  work  ?  " 

"  I'm  not   trying  to   figure   anything  like  that 


Some  things  don't  have  to  be  figured.  Some  things 
just  are!  Do  you  see  what  I  mean?  Those  boys 
didn't  wait  to  do  any  figuring.  When  I  quit  the 
Acme,  they  quit  —  just  as  a  matter  of  course.  If  I 
were  as  loyal  to  them  as  they  have  been  to  me,  Mr. 
Dewitt,  I  wouldn't  have  taken  two  days  to  give  you 
my  answer.  I'd  have  told  you  day  before  yesterday 
what  I'm  telling  you  now." 

Dewitt  did  not  reply  at  once.  When  he  did  speak 
he  seemed  to  be  answering  an  argument  within  him- 
self. 

"  I  can't  let  my  own  boys  go  to  make  room  for 
yours.  That  is  absolutely  out  of  the  question. 
There  is  a  little  matter  of  loyalty  there,  also." 

"  I  know  there  is.  I  don't  know  that  I  should 
want  you  to  let  them  go.  We're  both  in  the  same 
position  almost.  And  we're  at  a  deadlock,  Mr.  De- 
witt. I'm  certainly  sorry  that  I  can't  sign  up  with 
you." 

"  So  am  I,  young  man.  So  am  I.  Come  back  if 
things  shape  themselves  so  you  can  see  your  way  clear 
to  directing  my  Western  company.  I've  an  idea 
your  boys  will  be  going  back  to  their  ranches  before 
the  holidays.  In  case  they  do,  let  me  hear  from 
you." 


138        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

That  was  more  than  Luck  had  any  right  to  expect, 
and  he  had  the  sense  to  realize  it.  He  thanked  De- 
witt  and  promised,  and  went  away  with  something 
of  a  load  off  his  mind.  He  could  go  now  and  face 
the  Happy  Family  without  feeling  himself  another 
Judas. 

He  found  them  sitting  around  waiting  for  their 
supper  and  trying  to  invent  n,ew  words  to  fit  their 
disgust  with  the  Acme  Film  Company.  They 
greeted  Luck  as  though  they  had  not  seen  him  for  a 
month. 

"  Bully  for  you,  Luck !  "  Andy  shouted,  and  gave 
him  an  approving  slap  on  the  shoulder  that  sent  him 
skating  dangerously  toward  the  table.  "  Best  job  in 
town  just  came  a-running  up  to  you  and  says, '  Please 
take  me ! ' —  so  they  say.  That  right  ?  " 

"  Yeah  —  what  about  this  here  Great  Western 
gitting  its  loop  on  you  first  thing  ? "  bawled  Big 
Medicine  gleefully.  "  By  cripes,  that's  sure  one 
•on  the  Acme  bunch!  They'll  wisht  they  wasn't 
quite  so  fresh,  givin'  that  little  tin  imitation  of  an 
author  so  much  rope.  Me  'n'  Pink  was  over  to 
the  studio  to-day;  honest  to  grandma,  they  was  a 
sick  lookin'  bunch  around  there.  Me  'n'  Pink 
sure  throwed  it  into  'em  too,  about  letting  the  only 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     139 

real  man  they  had  git  away  from  'em  the  way  they 
done." 

"  My  gorry,  son,  I  sure  am  tickled  to  see  yuh  light 
with  both  feet  under  yuh,  like  they  say  you  done.  I 
heard  tell  the  Great  Western's  going  to  let  yuh  put  on 
your  own  pitcher;  I  guess  them  Acme  folks'll  feel 
kinda  foolish  when  they  see  it,"  declared  the  dried 
little  man,  grinning  over  his  pipe. 

Luck  was  fighting  his  bewilderment  and  framing  a 
demand  for  explanations  when  Rosemary  bustled  in 
from  the  kitchen. 

"  Oh,  but  we're  glad,  Luck  Lindsay !  "  she  began  in 
her  quick,  emphatic  way.  "  We  all  feel  like  a 
million  dollars  over  your  good  luck.  We're  going  to 
have  fried  chicken  and  strawberry  shortcake  for  sup- 
per, too,  just  for  a  celebration.  I  knew  you'd  come 
out  and  tell  us  all  about  it.  So  sit  right  down,  every- 
body, and  keep  still  so  Luck  ean  tell  us  just  what 
everybody  said  to  the  other  fellow,  and  how  Dewitt 
happened  to  get  hold  of  him  so  quickly.  Is  it  true  ? 
The  boys  heard  you  were  going  to  get  two  hundred 
dollars  a  week !  " 

"ISTot  get  it  —  no."  Luck  unfolded  his  napkin 
with  fingers  that  shook  a  little.  "I  was  offered  it, 
but  I'm  not  going  to  take  it." 


140        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  Not  —  why,  Luck  Lindsay !  "  Rosemary  very 
nearly  dropped  her  new  percolator. 

"Y'airit?" 

"Aw,  gwanl  Only  reason  I  wouldn't  take  two 
hundred  a  week  would  be  because  I'd  drop  dead  at 
the  chance  and  couldn't." 

"  Well,  listen.  There's  one  point  that  hasn't 
spilled  into  studio  gossip  yet,"  Luck  managed  to  slip 
into  the  uproar.  "  I  didn't  take  the  place.  There 
were  some  details  we  couldn't  get  together  on,  so  I 
thanked  him  and  turned  it  down." 

There  was  silence,  while  the  Happy  Family  stared 
at  him. 

"  What  dee-tails  was  them  ? "  Big  Medicine  de- 
manded belligerently.  "  Way  I  heard  it  — " 

"  Studio  gossip,"  Luck  interrupted  hastily. 
"You  can't  depend  on  anything  you  hear  passed 
around  amongst  the  extras.  We  failed  to  agree  on 
certain  technical  details.  I  haven't  any  more  job 
than  a  jack  rabbit;  let  it  go  at  that  What  have  you 
fellows  been  doing  ? " 

"  Us  ?  Why,  the  Acme's  goin'  to  give  us  absent 
treatment  from  now  on,"  Andy  stated  cheerfully. 
"  They're  paying  us  thirty  a  week  apiece  to  stay 
away  from  'em  —  and  I  sure  never  earned  money 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     141 

easier  than  that.  Clements  is  going  to  take  or- 
ders from  that  so-called  author,  and  he  told  me 
straight  out  that  they'll  be  using  actors  in  those 
stories." 

"  They'll  need  'em,"  Luck  commented  drily. 
"  You're  in  luck  that  they  don't  want  you  to  work. 
Any  other  news  ?  " 

"  You  bet  they's  other  news !  "  roared  Big  Medi- 
cine, goggling  across  the  table  at  Luck.  "  I  rustled 
me  a  job,  by  cripes!  Soon  as  this  rain's  over,  I'm 
goin'  to  cash  in  my  face  fer  two  dollars  a  day  with 
the  Sunset  Feller  over  there  wants  me  bad  fer 
atmosphere  in  a  pitcher  he's  goin'  to  make  of  the 
Figy  Islands.  Feller  claims  he  can  clothe  me  in  a 
nigger  wig  and  a  handful  of  grass  and  get  more 
atmosphere,  by  cripes,  to  the  square  inch  — " 

Kosemary  gasped  and  bolted  for  the  kitchen. 
When  she  came  back,  red-faced  and  still  gurgling 
spasmodically,  Pink  was  relating  his  experiences 
with  another  company.  He  and  the  ISTative  Son  and 
Weary,  it  transpired,  were  duly  enrolled  upon  the 
extra  list  and  were  reasonably  sure  of  a  day's  work 
now  and  then.  Rosemary  had  paid  her  Japanese 
maid  and  let  her  go,  and  Andy  was  going  to  help  her 
with  the  housework  until  the  industrial  problem  was 


142        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

solved.  She  listened  for  a  minute  and  then  made  a 
suggestion  of  her  own. 

"  We're  all  in  the  same  boat,"  she  said,  "  and  by 
just  sticking  together,  I  know  we'll  come  out  swim- 
mingly. Why  don't  you  leave  the  hotel,  and  come 
out  here  and  batch  with  us,  Luck?  It  would  be  so 
much  cheaper;  and  I  can  turn  that  couch  in  the 
kitchen  into  a  bed,  easy  as  anything.  I'd  like  to 
shake  that  Great  Western  Company  for  acting  the 
way  they  have  with  you.  Think  of  offering  a  man  a 
two-hundred-a-week  position  and  then  haggling — " 

"  Say,  Luck,"  .the  dried  little  man  spoke  up  sud- 
denly, "  how  much  does  one  of  them  there  camaries 
cost?  I'd  be  willin'  to  chip  in  and  help  buy  one; 
and,  by  gorry,  we  could  make  some  movin'  pitchers 
of  our  own  and  sell  'em,  if  we  can't  do  no  better." 
He  craned  his  neek  and  peered  the  length  of  the  table 
at  Luck.  "  Ain't  no  law  ag'in  it,  is  there  ?  "  he  chal- 
lenged. 

"  No,  there's  no  law  against  it."  Luck  closed  his 
ips  against  further  comment.  The  idea  was  like  a 
sudden  blow  upon  the  door  of  his  imagination. 

The  Happy  Family  looked  at  one  another  inquir- 
ingly. They  had  never  thought  of  doing  anything 
like  that.  The  dried  little  man  may  have  meditated 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     143 

much  upon  the  subject,  but  he  certainly  had  not 
given  a  hint  of  it  to  any  of  them. 

"  Oh,  why  couldn't  you  boys  do  that  ?  "  Rosemary 
exclaimed  breathlessly. 

Luck  stirred  his  coffee  carefully  and  did  not  look 
up.  "  Don't  run  away  with  the  idea  that  you  can 
buy  a  camera  for  twenty  or  thirty  dollars,"  he 
quelled.  "  A  camera,  complete  with  tripod,  lenses, 
magazines,  and  cases,  would  cost  about  fourteen  hun- 
dred dollars  —  at  least." 

That,  as  he  had  expected  it  to  do,  rather  feazed  the 
Happy  Family  for  a  few  minutes.  They  became 
interested  in  the  food  they  were  eating,  and  their 
eyes  did  not  stray  far  from  their  plates. 

"  I  can  ante  two  hundred,"  Weary  remarked  at 
last  with  elaborate  carelessness,  reaching  for  more 
butter. 

"  See  yuh  and  raise  yuh  fifty,"  Andy  Green  re- 
torted briskly.  "  I've  got  a  wife  that's  learning  me 
to  save  money." 

"  You  can  count  my  chips  for  all  I  got."  Pink's 
dimples  showed  briefly.  "  I'll  go  through  my  pockets 
when  I  get  filled  up,  and  see  how  rich  I  am.  But, 
anyway,  there's  a  couple  of  hundred  I  know  I've  got, 
—  counting  Acme  handouts  and  all." 


144        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"We-ell — "  the  dried  little  man  laid  down  his 

fork  to  rub  his  chin  thoughtfully,   "  I  never  had 

much  call  to  spend  money  in  Sioux,  !N"orth-Dakoty. 

I  batched  and  lived  savin'.     I  can  put  in  half  of  that 

'fourteen  hundred  —  mebby  a  little  mite  more." 

"  Well,  by  cripes,  I  got  a  boy  t'  look  out  fer,  and  I 
ain't  rich  as  some,  but  all  I  got  goes  in  the  pot !  " 
cried  Big  Medicine  impulsively. 

Luck  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  regarded  the 
flushed  faces  enigmatically.  "  This  is  all  good 
material  for  an  argument  on  our  financial  standing," 
he  said,  "  but  if  you're  taking  yourselves  seriously, 
let  me  tell  you  something  before  you  go  any  farther. 
Buying  a  camera  is  only  a  starter.  Besides,  I 
wouldn't  play  with  little  stuff  and  compete  with 
these  big,  established  companies  releasing  on  regular 
programs.  Say,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  we 
cooperate  and  go  into  this ;  all  I'd  handle  would  be 
features, —  State's  rights  stuff.  (Make  big  four-or- 
five  reelers,  and  sell  the  rights  in  as  many  States  as 
possible;  that's  what  it  amounts  to.)  But  it  isn't  a 
thing  to  play  with,  boys.  Let's  do  our  joking  about 
something  else." 

Rosemary  set  her  two  elbows  upon  the  table, 
clasped  her  hands  together,  and  dropped  her  chin 


145 

upon  them  so  that  she  was  looking  at  Luck  from 
under  her  eyebrows.  That  pose  meant  determination 
and  an  argumentative  mood. 

"  I've  been  doing  a  little  mental  arithmetic,"  she 
began.  "  Also  I've  done  a  little  thinking.  I  know 
now  what  spoiled  that  Great  Western  offer  for  you, 
Luck  Lindsay.  It  was  because  they  wouldn't  take 
the  boys  too.  And  you  turned  it  down  because  you 
—  oh,  they're  the  'technical  details,'  young  man! 
You  see?  Your  eyes  give  you  away.  I  knew  it, 
once  the  idea  popped  into  my  head.  What  do  you 
think  of  a  fellow  like  that,  boys?  Refused  a  two- 
hundred-a-week  position  because  he  couldn't  get  you 
fellows  a  job  too." 

"  That  two  hundred  seems  to  worry  you  a  good 
deal,"  Luck  muttered,  crimson  to  his  collar. 

"  ISTow  don't  interrupt,  because  I  shall  keep  right 
on  talking  just  the  same.  iVe  a  lot  more  to  say. 
Do  you  realize  that  the  donations  these  boys  have 
made  already  amounts  to  over  fifteen  hundred  dol- 
lars? And  that  does  not  include  Happy  Jack  or 
Miguel,  because  they  haven't  — " 

"  Aw,  gwan !  I  never  had  a  chanct  to  git  a  word 
in  edgeways,"  Happy  hurriedly  defended  his  seem- 
ing parsimony.  "  I'm  willin'  to  chip  in." 


146        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"Well,  the  point  is  this:  Why  not  all  put  in 
what  you  can,  and  just  go  out  where  there  are  cattle, 
and  make  your  Big  Picture,  Luck  Lindsay?  We 
could  live  in  the  country  cheaper  than  we  can  here ; 
and  there  wouldn't  be  anything  to  buy  but  grub, — 
just  a  bag  of  beans  and  some  flour  and  coffee.  I'd 
be  willing  to  starve  for  the  sake  of  making  that  Big 
Picture !  " 

"  By  gracious,  there's  our  transportation  money, 
too !  Andy  broke  another  short  silence.  "  Three 
hundred  and  fifty,  right  there  in  a  lump." 

"  Let  it  stay  transportation  money,  too !  "  Rose- 
mary advised  quickly.  "  It  can  transport  you 
fellows  to  where  Luck  wants  to  make  his  picture." 

They  waited  then  for  Luck  to  speak,  but  he  was  too 
busy  thinking.  On  his  shoulders  would  rest  the 
responsibility  of  the  outfit.  On  his  word  they  would 
rely  absolutely  and  without  question.  It  was  no 
light  matter  to  lead  these  men  into  a  venture  which 
would  take  their  time,  more  hard,  heartbreaking 
work  than  they  could  possibly  foresee,  and  the  last 
dollar  they  possessed.  He  was  sorely  tempted  to 
try  it,  but  for  their  sakes  he  knew  he  must  not  let 
their  enthusiasm  sweep  away  his  sober  judgment. 
Had  they  owned  but  half  his  experience  it  would  be 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     147 

different;  but  their  very  ignorance  of  the  game 
hampered  his  decision. 

"  Well,  boss,  how  about  it  ?  "  Andy  urged.  "  Are 
yuh  game  to  try  her  a  whirl  ?  We  haven't  got  much, 
but  what  we've  got  is  yours  if  you  want  to  tackle  it. 
We'll  be  right  with  you  —  till  hell's  no  bigger  than  a 
bullet  ladle." 

"  That's  just  what  holds  me  back.  I'd  certainly 
hate  to  lead  you  up  against  a  losing  proposition,  boys. 
And  if  I  went  into  it,  I'd  go  in  over  my  eyebrows ;  if 
I  didn't  make  good  I  wouldn't  have  the  price  of  a  tag 
on  a  ten-cent  sack  of  Bull  Durham  when  I  quit;  so 
I  couldn't  pay  you  back  — " 

"  Aw,  thunder !  Think  we  never  set  into  a  poker 
game  in  our  lives?  Think  we're  in  the  habit  of 
hollerin'  for  our  chips  back  when  we  lose  ?  What's 
the  matter  with  yuh,  anyway  ?  "  cried  Big  Medicine 
wrathfully.  * 

"  Why,  of  course  we  share  the  risk  of  losing !  " 
Rosemary  scowled  at  him  indignantly.  "We'll  go 
in  over  our  eyebrows,  too, —  and  stand  on  our  toes 
long  as  we  can,  to  keep  our  scalp  locks  showing  above 
water !  "  Her  brown  eyes  twinkled  a  swift  glance 
around  the  table.  "  If  you  think  these  boys  are 
quitters,  Luck  Lindsay,  you  just  ought  to  have  been 


148        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

around  when  they  were  hanging  on  to  their  home- 
steads !  I  could  tell  you  things  — " 

"  You  say  buying  a  camera  is  just  a  starter.  How 
much  do  you  figure  it  would  cost  to  make  our  Big 
Picture?  Cutting  out  salaries  and  all  such  little 
luxuries,  what  would  the  actual  expenses  be  —  mak- 
ing a  rough  guess  ?  "  Weary  leaned  forward  over 
his  plate  and  forgot  all  about  his  tempting  wedge  of 
shortcake. 

Luck  pushed  back  his  plate  and  smiled  his  smile. 
"  For  the  Big  Picture,"  he  began,  while  the  Happy 
Family  leaned  to  listen,  "  there'd  be  the  camera  and 
outfit, —  I  could  pick  up  some  things  second  hand, — 
we'll  call  that  fourteen  hundred  and  fifty.  Then 
there  would  be  at  least  five  thousand  feet  of  film; 
perforated  raw  stock  I  could  get  for  about  three  and 
three  quarter  cents  a  foot.  Say  a  couple  of  hundred 
dollars  for  that  We'd  need  at  least  three  dozen 
radium  flares  for  our  night  scenes;  they  cost  close 
around  twenty  dollars  a  dozen.  And  one  or  two 
light  diffusers, —  that's  just  to  get  us  started  with  an 
outfit,  remember.  Then  there'd  be  our  transportation 
to  Albuquerque,  New  Mexico.  I  know  that  country, 
and  I  know  what  I  can  do  there.  I'd  hit  straight  for 
a  ranch  I  know  between  Bear  Canyon  and  Kincon 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     149 

Arroyo  —  belongs  to  an  old  fellow  that  sure  is  a 
character,  too,  in  his  way.  Old  bachelor,  he  is;  got 
some  cattle  and  horses,  and  round-pole  corrals  and 
the  like  of  that.  I  know  old  Applehead  Forrman 
like  I  know  my  right  hand ;  we'd  make  Applehead' s 
place  our  headquarters  —  see?  Exterior  stuff  we'd 
have  right  there,  ready  to  shoot  without  any  expense. 
As  for  interiors, —  say !  any  of  you  fellows  handy 
with  hammer  and  saw  ?  " 

"  By  gracious,  we  all  are ! "  Andy  declared 
quickly.  "We  learned  our  little  lessons  when  we 
were  building  claim  shacks  for  ourselves." 

"  Good  enough !  You  boys  could  be  stage  me- 
chanics as  well  as  leading  men,"  Luck  grinned. 
"  Add  hammers  and  saws  to  the  outfit.  We'd  have 
to  build  a  few  interior  sets." 

Rosemary  had  her  eyebrows  tied  in  little  knots,  she 

was  thinking  so  fast.     "  I'llj  write  the  Little  Doctor 

that  she  can  have  my  silver  teaset,"  she  informed 

Andy  impulsively.     "  She  offered  me  fifty  dollars 

<  for  it,  you  know.     That  would  buy  lots  of  beans !  " 

Luck  looked  at  her,  but  he  did  not  say  what  was  in 
his  mind.  Instead  he  reached  into  an  inner  pocket 
and  drew  out  his  passbook.  "  I've  got  eighteen 
hundred  and  ninety-five  dollars  in  the  bank,"  he 


150        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

announced,  reading  the  figures  aloud.  "  And  my  car 
ought  to  bring  three  or  four  thousand, —  if  I  can  find 
the  man  that  tried  to  buy  it  a  month  or  so  before  I 
took  the  Injuns  back.  She's  a  pippin,  boys !  — " 

"  Oh,  your  lovely,  big,  white  machine !  "  wailed 
Rosemary.  "Would  you  have  to  sell  it,  Luck? 
Couldn't  we  squeak  along  without  that?  " 

"  Aw,  you  don't  want  to  sell  your  car !  "  Pink  pro- 
tested. "  I  know  where  I  can  borrow  two  or  three 
hundred.  Maybe  the  Old  Man — " 

"  We'll  put  this  thing  through  alone,  if  we  do  it  at 
all,"  Luck  told  him  bluntly.  "  Can't  afford  to  work 
with  borrowed  capital;  the  risk  is  too  great.  Sure, 
I'll  sell  the  car.  I  was  thinking  of  it,  anyway," 
he  testified  falsely  but  reassuringly.  "We'll  need 
every  cent  I  can  raise.  There's  chemicals  and  Lord 
knows  what  all;  and  when  we  come  to  making  our 
prints  and  marketing,  why — "  he  threw  out  both 
hands  expressively.  "  If  we  land  in  Albuquerque 
with  five  thousand  dollars  and  our  outfit,  we  won't 
have  a  cent  to  throw  away.  At  that,  we'll  have  to 
squeeze  every  nickel  till  it  hollers,  before  we're 
through.  Believe  me,  boys,  this  is  going  to  be  some 
undertaking !  " 

"Nice,  comfortable  way  you've  got  of  painting 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH    151 

things  cheerful,"  the  Native  Son  drawled  ironically. 

"  That's  all  right.  I  want  you  to  realize  what  it's 
going  to  be  like  before  you  get  in  so  far  you  can't 
back  out." 

"  Aw,  who's  said  anything  about  backing  out  ?  " 
Happy  Jack  grumbled. 

"  Let's  get  right  down  to  brass  tacks  and  see  how 
strong  we  can  go  on  money,"  Andy  suggested,  pulling 
a  pencil  out  of  an  inner  pocket.  "  Here,  girl,  you  do 
the  bookkeeping  while  we  call  off  the  size  of  our  pile. 
Put  'er  down  in  this  book  till  you  can  get  another  one. 
You  can  set  me  down  for  two  seventy-five  —  or  make 
it  three  hundred.  I  can  scrape  it  up,  all  right. 
How  about  you,  Pink?  This  is  hard-boiled  figures, 
now,  and  no  guess  work." 

Pink  blew  a  mouthful  of  smoke  while  he  did  a  little 
mental  calculation.  Then  he  took  his  twisted-leather 
purse  and  emptied  it  into  his  saucer.  He  investi- 
gated all  his  pockets  and  adcled  eighty-five  cents  in 
small  change.  Then  he  gravely  began  to  count,  not 
disdaining  three  pennies  in  the  pile.  "  I've  got 
seventy-five  dollars  in  the  bank,"  he  said.  "Add 
ninety  dollars  salary,  and  you  have  a  hundred  and 
sixty-five.  Add  six  dollars  and  eighty-seven  cents, 
and  you  have  —  my  pile." 


152        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Rosemary  twisted  her  lips  and  wrote  the  figures 
opposite  Pink's  name.  Kext  came  Weary,  then 
Miguel  and  Big  Medicine  and  the  dried  little  man 
who  chewed  violently  upon  a  wooden  toothpick  and 
said  he  was  good  for  eight  hundred,  and  mebby  a 
little  mite  more. 

They  pushed  their  plates  to  the  table's  center  to 
make  room  for  their  gesticulating  hands  and  uneasy 
elbows  while  they  planned  ways  and  means.  They 
argued  over  trivial  points  and  left  the  big  ones  for 
Luck  to  settle.  They  talked  of  light  effects  and 
wholesale  grocery  lists  and  ray  filters  and  smoke  pots 
and  railroad  fares  and  the  problem  of  cutting  down 
their  baggage  so  as  to  avoid  paying  excess  charges. 
Luck,  once  he  had  taken  the  mental  plunge  into  the 
deep  waters  of  so  hazardous  an  enterprise,  began  to 
exhibit  a  most  amazing  knowledge  of  the  details  of 
picture  making. 

To  save  money,  he  told  them,  he  would  be  his  own 
camera  man.  He  could  do  without  a  "  still " 
camera,  because  he  would  enlarge  clippings  from  the 
different  scenes  in  the  negative  instead.  They'd 
have  to  manage  the  range  stuff  with  only  one  camera, 
which  would  mean  more  work  to  get  the  various 
effects.  But  with  a  telephoto  lens  and  a  wide  angle 


LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BUNCH     153 

lens  he  could  come  pretty  near  putting  it  over  the 
way  he  wanted  it.  "  And  there'll  be  no  more  blank 
ammunition,  boys,"  he  told  them.  "  So  you  want 
to  fit  yourselves  out  with  real  shells.  I'm  not  going/ 
very  strong  on  this  foreground  bullet-effect  stuff;  we 
can  afford  to  leave  that  for  the  Western  four-flushers 
that  can't  do  anything  else.  But  she's  some  wild 
down  where  we'll  be  located,  so  we'll  not  be  packing 
empty  guns,  at  that. 

"  And  there's  another  thing,"  he  went  on,  talking 
and  making  notes  at  the  same  time.  "  If  we're  go- 
ing to  do  this,  we  can't  get  started  any  too  soon.  We 
may  be  able  to  hit  a  late  round-up  and  get  some 
scenes,  which  will  save  rounding  up  stock  ourselves 
for  it.  And  there's  all  that  winter  stuff  to  make,  too ; 
we  haven't  any  more  time  to  throw  away  than  we 
have  money." 

"  Well,  we're  ready  to  hit  the  trail  any  time  you 
are,"  Andy  declared.  "  Tomorrow,  if  yuh  say  so. 
You  go  ahead  with  your  end  of  it,  Luck,  and  I'll  be 
straw  boss  here  in  camp  and  get  the  outfit  packed  and 
ready  to  ship  outa  here  on  an  hour's  notice.  I  can 
do  it,  too  —  believe  me !  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Rosemary,  "  I'd  let  James 
and  Weary  buy  our  winter's  supplies  and  have  them 


154        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

sent  by  freight  right  on  to  where  we're  going. 
Things  are  awfully  cheap  here.  I'll  make  out  a  list, 
and  the  boys  can  attend  to  that  to-morrow.  And  I'll 
bake  up  a  lot  of  stuff  for  lunches  on  the  train,  too. 
We're  not  going  to  squander  money  in  the  dining 
car." 

"  Say,  we'll  just  borry  one  of  them  dray  teams 
from  the  Acme  corral,  by  cripes,  and  haul  our  own 
stuff  to  the  depot !  "  Big  Medicine  exclaimed  with 
enthusiasm.  "  Save  us  four  or  five  dollars  right 
there!" 

Luck  rose  and  reached  for  his  umbrella  as  though 
he  had  just  recalled  an  important  engagement.  "  I 
think  I  know  where  to  find  a  buyer  for  my  machine," 
he  said,  "  so  I'll  just  get  on  his  trail.  To-morrow  I'll 
start  getting  my  camera  outfit  together.  Andy,  I'll 
turn  this  end  of  the  expedition  over  to  you ;  that  idea 
of  getting  food  supplies  here  is  all  right,  within  cer- 
tain limits.  Don't  buy  any  cheap,  weighty  stuff 
here,  because  the  freight  will  eat  up  all  you  save. 
But  I'll  leave  that  to  you  folks;  I  guess  you've  had 
experience  enough  — " 

"  Considering  most  of  us  learned  our  a-b-c's  outa 
Montgomery-Ward  catalogues,"  Weary  observed 
with  a  quirk  of  the  lips,  "  I  guess  you  can  safely  leave 


it  to  the  bunch.  Range  kids  are  brought  up  on  them 
Wind-river  bibles,  as  we  call  mail  order  catalogues. 
I'll  bet  you  I  can  give  offhand  the  freight  on  any- 
thing you  can  name,  from  a  hair  hackamore  to  a  gang 
plow." 

"  Fly  at  it,  then,"  laughed  Luck,  with  his  hand  on 
the  doorknob.  "  I  am  going  to  be  some  busy  my- 
self. I'll  just  turn  over  the  transportation  problem 
to  you  folks.  Adios." 

"Prepare  to  ride  in  the  chair  car,"  Bosemary 
called  after  him  warningly.  "  Even  a  tourist 
sleeper  is  going  to  be  too  luxurious  for  us;  we're 
going  to  squeeze  nickels  till  they  just  squeal !  " 

Luck  held  the  door  open  while  he  smiled  approv- 
ingly at  her.  "  That'll  be  playing  the  game  right 
from  the  start.  Adios f  folks." 


CHAPTER  TEN 

UNEXPECTED    GUESTS    FOE    APPLEHEAD 

APPLEHEAD  Forrman  was  worried  over  his 
cat,  Compadre,  which  is  Spanish  for  comrade 
or  something  of  that  sort.  It  was  a  blue  cat  and  it 
was  a  big  cat,  and  it  had  a  bellicose  disposition,  and 
Applehead  was  anxious  because  it  had  lately  declared 
war  on  a  neighboring  coyote  and  had  not  come  out  of 
the  battle  unscathed.  Applehead  had  heard  the  dis- 
turbance and  had  gone  out  with  a  rifle  and  dispersed 
the  coyote,  but  not  until  Compadre  had  lost  half  of 
his  tail  and  a  good  deal  of  his  self-assurance.  Since 
that  night,  almost  a  week  ago,  Compadre  had  been  a 
changed  cat.  He  had  sought  dark  corners  and  had 
yowled  when  the  best  friend  he  had  in  the  world  tried 
to  coax  him  out  to  his  meals.  Applehead  was  very 
patient  and  very  sympathetic,  and  hunted  small  game 
with  which  to  tempt  the  invalid's  appetite. 

On  this  day  he  had  a  fat  prairie  dog  which  he  had 
shot,  and  he  was  carrying  it  around  by  a  hind  leg 
looking  for  Compadre  and  calling  "  Kitty,  kitty, 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS       157 

kitty,"  in  the  most  seductive  tones  of  which  his  des- 
ert-harshened  vocal  chords  were  capable.  He  looked 
under  the  squat  adobe  cabin  which  held  all  the  odds 
and  ends  that  had  accumulated  about  the  place,  and  < 
which  he  called  the  "  ketch-all."  He  went  over  and 
looked  under  the  water  tank  where  there  was  shade 
and  coolness.  He  went  to  the  stable,  and  from  there 
he  returned  to  the  adobe  house,  squat  like  the  "  ketch- 
all  "  but  larger.  There  was  a  hole  alongside  the  fire- 
place chimney  at  the  end  next  the  hill,  and  sometimes 
when  Compadre  was  especially  disenchanted  with 
his  world,  he  went  into  the  hole  and  nursed  his  griev- 
ances in  dark  seclusion  under  the  house. 

Applehead  got  down  upon  all  fours  and  called 
"  Kitty,  kitty,  kitty,"  with  his  face  close  to  the  hole. 
It  was  past  noon,  and  Compadre  had  not  had  any- 
thing to  eat  since  the  night  before,  when  he  had 
lapped  up  half  a  saucer  of  canned  milk  and  had  apa- 
thetically licked  a  slice  of  bacon.  Applehead  put 
his  ear  to  the  hole  and  imagined  he  heard  a  faint 
meow  from  a  far  corner.  He  pushed  the  prairie  dog 
into  the  aperture  and  called  "  Kitty-kitty-kitty " 
again  coaxingly. 

He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  anxious  quest  that  he 
did  not  hear  the  chuckle  of  two  wagons  coming  up 


158        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

through  the  sand  to  the  corral.  He  did  not  even 
hear  the  footsteps  of  men  approaching  the  house. 
He  did  not  hear  anything  at  all  except  a  dismal  yowl 
now  and  then  from  the  darkness.  He  contorted  his 
long  person  that  he  might  peer  into  the  gloom.  He 
pushed  the  prairie  dog  in  as  far  as  he  could  reach. 
"  Come,  kitty-kitty-kitty !  "  he  coaxed.  "  Doggone 
your  onery  soul,  I'm  gitting  tired  of  this  kinda  per- 
formance! You  can  tromp  on  me  just  so  fur  and 
no  further,  now  I'm  a-tellin'  yuh.  That  there  tail 
of  yourn  needs  a  fresh  rag  tied  to  it,  and  some  salve. 
But  I  ain't  the  burrowin'  kind  of  animal,  and  I  ain't 
comin'  in  under  there  after  yuh.  Come,  kitty-kitty- 
kitty  !  Come  on  outa  there  'fore  I  send  a  charge  of 
birdshot  in  after  yuh !  "  His  voice  changed  to  a 
tremulous  chant  of  rising  anger.  "  You  wall-eyed, 
mangy,  rat-eatin'  son  of  a  gun,  what  have  I  been 
feedin'  yuh  fur  all  these  years?  You  come  outa 
there !  If  it  wasn't  for  the  love  uh  God  I  got  in  my 
heart,  I'll  fill  yuh  so  full  of  holes  the  coyotes'll  have 
to  make  soup  of  ye !  I'll  sure  spread  yuh  out  so  thin 
your  hide'll  measure  up  like  a  mountain  lion !  Don't 
yuh  yowl  at  me  like  that !  Come,  kitty-kitty-kitty  — 
ni-ice  kitty!  Come  to  your  old  pard  what  ketched 
yuh  the  fattest  young  dog  on  the  flat  for  your  dinner. 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS        159 

Come  on,  now;  you  ain't  skeered  uh  me,  shorely! 
Come  on,  Compadre  —  ni-ice  kitty !  " 

"  Let  me  try !  "  cried  Rosemary  behind  him,  her 
voice  startling  old  Applehead  so  that  he  knocked  his 
head  painfully  on  the  rock  foundation  as  he  jerked 
himself  into  a  more  dignified  posture.  His  eyes 
widened  at  the  size  of  the  audience  grouped  behind 
him,  but  he  had  faced  more  amazing  sights  than  that 
in  his  eventful  career.  He  got  stiffly  to  his  feet  and 
bowed,  the  prairie  dog  dangling  limply  from  his 
hand. 

"  Howdy !  Howdy !  Pleased  to  meet  yuh,"  he 
greeted  them  dazedly.  Then  he  spied  Luck  standing 
half  behind  Weary's  tall  form,  and  his  embarrassed 
smile  changed  to  a  joyful  grin.  "  Well,  danged  if  it 
ain't  Luck !  How  are  yuh,  boy  ?  I  was  jest  think- 
in'  about  you  right  this  morning.  What  wind 
blowed  you  into  camp?  Come  right  on  in,  folks. 
If  you're  friends  of  Luck's,  yuh  don't  need  no  inter- 
duction  in  this  camp.  Luck  and  me's  et  outa  the 
same  skillet  months  on  end  together.  Come  on  in. 
I've  et,  but  they's  plenty  left."  His  blue  eyes  twin- 
kled quizzically  over  the  Happy  Family  and  then 
went  to  Luck.  "What  yuh  up  to  this  time,  boy? 
'Mother  wild-west  show  ?  " 


160        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

While  they  were  waiting  for  coffee  to  boil,  Luck 
told  him  what  he  was  up  to  this  time.  Told  him 
what  it  was  he  meant  to  do  in  the  way  of  making  a 
Western  picture  that  should  be  worthy  the  West. 
He  did  not  say  a  word  about  needing  Applehead's 
assistance ;  he  did  not  need  to  say  a  word  about  that 
Applehead  himself  saw  where  he  would  fit  into  the 
scheme,  and  he  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
Luck  saw  it  also. 

"Got  all  your  stuff  out  from  town?"  he  asked, 
while  he  was  hunting  cups  enough  to  go  around. 
"  If  yuh  ain't,  you  can  send  a  couple  of  the  boys  in 
with  a  four-horse  team  after  dinner.  I  d'no  about 
beds,  unless  yuh  got  your  own  beddin'-rolls  with  yuh. 
The  missus,  she  can  have  a  room,  and  the  rest  of  yuh 
will  have  to  knock  some  bunks  together.  Mebby  we 
can  clean  out  the  '  ketch-all '  and  turn  that  into  a 
bunk  house.  One  I  had,  it  burnt  down  last  winter ; 
some  darn-fool  Mexicans  got  to  fightin'  in  there  and 
kicked  the  lamp  over.  It  could  have  a  new  roof  put 
on,  I  reckon ;  the  walls  is  there  yet.  You  can  take  a 
look  around  after  you  eat,  and  see  what  all  there  is 
to  do.  Well,  set  up,  folks;  ain't  much,  but  I've 
throwed  my  feet  under  the  table  fer  less  and  was 
thankful  to  git  it,  now  I'm  a-tellin'  yuh !  " 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS        161 

Big  Medicine  bethought  Mm  of  the  remains  of  the 
train  lunch  which  they  had  frugally  saved.  He 
brought  that  and  added  it  to  Applehead's  impromptu 
meal.  The  sandwiches  were  mashed  flat,  and  the 
'  pickles  were  limp,  and  the  cake  much  inclined  to 
crumble,  but  Applehead  gave  one  look  and  took  off 
his  hat. 

"  I've  et,  but  I  can  shore  eat  again  when  I  git  my 
eyes  on  cake,"  he  declared  exuberantly,  and  pulled 
an  empty  box  up  to  the  table  for  a  seat.  "  I  wisht 
Compadre  could  git  a  smell  uh  that  there  fried 
chicken;  it  would  put  new  life  into  him,  which  he 
needs  after  tangling  with  that  there  coyote  'tother 
night." 

"  We  ought  to  unhitch  and  give  the  horses  a  feed," 
Luck  suggested.  "  Any  particular  place  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  where  to  put  them  cayuses  as 

well  as  I  do,"  Applehead  mumbled,  with  his  mouth 

full  of  cake.     "  I  don't  care  what  yuh  do  around  the 

.  danged  place.     Go  along  and  don't  bother  me,  boy ; 

(I'm  busy." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  how  it  would  be  ? "  Luck  re- 
minded Andy  and  Weary  when  they  were  outside. 
"  That  old  boy  is  tickled  to  death  to  have  us  here. 
He  sure  is  a  type,  too.  I'll  be  using  him.  in  the  pic- 


162        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ture.  And  just  take  a  look  at  that  corral  down 
there !  We'll  set  up  camp  this  afternoon  and  round 
up  some  horses, —  Applehead  always  keeps  a  bunch 
running  back  here  on  the  mesa, —  and  to-morrow 
morning  we'll  get  to  work.  A  couple  of  you  will 
have  to  take  these  teams  back  this  afternoon,  too. 
I'll  let  you  drive  the  four-horse  in,  Weary,  and  lead 
the  other  behind.  And  I'll  send  the  Native  Son  in 
with  Applehead's  team  and  wagon,  so  you  can  haul 
out  a  thousand  feet  of  lumber  for  a  stage.  Get  it 
surfaced  one  side, —  fourteen-foot  boards,  sabe? 
And  about  twenty-five  pounds  of  eight-penny  nails. 
We've  got  the  tools  in  our  outfit.  I  wonder  which 
pasture  Applehead's  team  is  running  in.  I'll  have 
one  of  the  boys  get  them  up,  unless  — " 

"  Luck  Lindsay ! "  came  Rosemary's  high,  clear 
treble.  "  Aren't  you  boys  going  to  eat  any  dinner  ?  * 

"  We'll  eat  when  we  have  more  time !  "  Luck 
shouted  back.  "  Send  Applehead  out  here,  will 
you?"  | 

Presently  Applehead  appeared  with  a  large  piece 
of  cake  in  one  hand  and  a  well-picked  chicken  wing 
in  the  other.  "What  yuh  want?"  he  inquired  la- 
zily, in  the  tone  that  implies  extreme  physical  com- 
fort. 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS        163 

"  I  want  your  big  team  to  haul  some  lumber  out 
from  town.  Where  are  they  ?  If  you  don't  mind 
catching  them  up  while  I  help  get  this  stuff  unloaded, 
we'll  have  things  moving  around  here  directly." 

"  Shore  I'll  ketch  'em  up  fur  ye,  soon  as  I  find 
Compadre  and  give  him  this  here  bone.  He's  been 
kinda  off  his  feed  since  that  coyote  dumb  his  frame. 
He  was  under  the  house,  but  I  reckon  so  many 
strange  voices  kinda  got  his  goat.  There  ain't  ary 
yowl  to  be  got  outa  that  hole  no  more.  Come,  kitty- 
kitty-kitty !  " 

Luck  threw  out  his  hands  despairingly,  and  then 
laughed.  Applehead's  tender  solicitude  for  his  cat 
was  a  fixed  characteristic  of  the  man,  and  Luck  knew 
there  was  no  profit  in  argument  upon  the  subject. 
He  began  unloading  the  lighter  pieces  of  baggage 
while  the  boys  fed  the  livery  teams.  The  others 
came  straggling  down  from  {he  house,  lighting  their 
after-dinner  cigarettes  and  glancing  curiously  at  the 
adobe  out-buildings  which  were  so  different  from 
anything  in  Montana.  The  sagebrush  slopes  wore  a 
comfortable  air  of  familiarity,  even  though  the  boys 
were  more  accustomed  to  bunch  grass ;  but  an  adobe 
stable  was  a  novelty. 

Fast  as  they  came  near  him,  Luck  put  them  to 


164        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

work.  There  was  plenty  to  do  before  they  oould 
even  begin  work  on  the  Big  Picture,  but  Luck  seemed 
to  have  thought  out  all  the  details  of  camp-setting 
with  the  same  attention  to  trifles  which  he  had  shown 
in  the  making  of  a  picture.  In  half  an  hour  he  had 
every  one  busy,  including  old  Applehead,  who,  hav- 
ing located  Compadre  in  the  stable  loft  and  left  the 
chicken  wing  at  the  top  of  the  ladder,  had  saddled  his 
horse  and  gone  off  into  a  far  pasture  to  bring  in  all 
the  horses  down  there,  so  that  Luck  could  choose 
whatever  animals  he  wished  to  use.  Dave  Wiswell, 
the  dried  little  man,  was  helping  Rosemary  wash  the 
dishes  and  put  away  the  food  supplies  they  had 
brought  out  with  them,  as  fast  as  Happy  Jack  could 
carry  them  up  from  the  wagon.  Andy  Green  was 
ruthlessly  emptying  the  only  closet  —  a  roomy  one, 
fortunately  —  in  the  house,  and  tacking  up  black 
paper  which  Luck  had  brought,  so  that  it  might  serve 
as  a  dark  room.  Big  Medicine  and  Pink  were  clear- 
ing out  the  one-roomed  adobe  cabin  which  Applehead 
called  the  "  ketch-all,"  so  that  the  boys  could  sleep 
there  until  the  bunk-house  was  repaired. 

Luck  was  unpacking  his  camera  and  swearing 
softly  to  himself  while  he  set  it  up,  and  wishing  that 
his  experience  as  assistant  camera-man  was  not  quite 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS       165 

so  far  in  the  past.  He  foresaw  difficulties  with  that 
camera  until  he  got  in  practice,  but  he  did  not  say 
anything  about  it  to  the  others.  He  got  it  together 
finally,  put  in  the  two-hundred-foot  magazine  of  nega- 
tive that  he  had  brought  with  him  to  use  while  wait- 
ing for  his  big  order  to  arrive,  made  a  few  light  tests, 
and  went  up  to  the  house  to  see  if  Andy  had  the  dark 
room  dark  enough. 

He  found  Andy  defending  himself  as  best  he  could 
from  a  small  domestic  storm.  In  his  anxiety  to  have 
that  dark  room  fixed  just  the  way  Luck  wanted  it, 
Andy  had  purloined  a  shelf  which  Rosemary  needed, 
and  which  she  meant  to  have,  if  words  could  restore 
it  to  its  place  behind  the  kitchen  stove.  Andy  had 
the  shelf  down  and  was  taking  out  bent  nails  with  a 
new  hammer  when  Luck  came  to  the  door  with  his 
arms  full  of  packages  of  chemicals  and  a  ruby  lamp. 

"  What  can  a  fellow  do  ?  "  Andy  was  inquiring 

i 

plaintively.  "  There  ain't  another  board  on  the 
place  that's  the  right  width.  I  looked.  Luck's  got 
to  have  a  shelf;  you  don't  expect  him  to  keep  all  his 
junk  on  the  floor,  do  you  ?  I'm  sorry,  but  I've  just 
got  to  have  it,  girl." 

"  You're  just  got  to  put  that  shelf  back,  Andy. 
Wiiere  do  you  expect  me  to  put  things  ?  There  isn't 


166        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

a  pantry  on  the  place,  and  only  that  one  dinky  little 
cupboard  over  there.  I  can't  keep  my  dishes  on  the 
floor,  and  cooking  is  going  to  be  pretty  important,  it- 
self, around  this  camp !  " 

"  Soon  as  the  lumber  gets  here,  I'll  have  Andy 
build  you  a  cupboard,"  Luck  soothed  her.  "You 
haven't  got  many  conveniences  here,  and  that's  a  fact. 
But  we'll  get  things  straightened  out,  pronto.  Got 
any  bones  or  scraps  left,  Mrs.  Andy  ?  That  little 
black  dog  that  followed  us  out  is  here  yet.  He  didn't 
go  back  with  the  boys.  I  found  him  curled  up  in 
the  wagon  shed  just  now;  poor  little  devil  looks  about 
starved.  His  ribs  stand  out  worse  than  a  cow  that's 
wintered  on  a  sheep  range." 

With  Rosemary's  attention  diverted  to  the  little 
black  dog,  Andy  got  the  shelf  nailed  firmly  upon  the 
wall  of  the  dark  room.  And  immediately  Luck  pro- 
ceeded to  use  it  to  its  fullest  capacity  and  announced 
that  he  needed  another  one,  whereat  Andy  groaned. 

"  Say,  I'm  a  brave  man,  all  right,  but  I  don't  dare 
to  swipe  any  more  shelves,"  he  protested.  "  isTot 
from  my  wife,  anyway.  Timber  must  sure  be  scarce 
in  this  man's  country.  I  never  did  see  a  place  so 
shy  of  boards  as  this  ranch  is." 

"  Well,  let's  see  if  there  are  any  barrels,"  said 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS       167 

Luck.  "  I've  been  studying  on  how  to  rig  up  some 
way  to  develop  my  film.  If  we  can  find  some  half 
barrels  and  knock  the  heads  out,  I  can  wind  the  nega- 
tive around  them  with  the  emulsion  side  out,  and  dip 
it  in  the  bigger  barrels  of  developer ;  see  how  I  mean  ? 
Believe  me,  this  laboratory  problem  is  going  to  be  a 
big  one  till  I  can  see  my  way  to  getting  tanks  and 
film  racks  out  here.  But  I  believe  barrels  will  work 
all  right.  And,  say!  There's  some  old  hose  I  saw 
out  by  the  windmill  tank;  you  get  that,  and  see  if 
you  can't  run  it  under  the  house  and  up  through  a 
hole  in  the  floor.  I  expect  it  leaks  in  forty  places,  but 
maybe  you  can  mend  it.  And  we  ought  to  have  some 
way  to  run  the  water  out  in  a  trough  or  something. 
You  see  what  you  can  do  about  that,  Andy,  while  I 
go  and  unpack  the  rest  of  my  camera  outfit.  There's 
a  garret  up  over  the  ceiling,  here,  and  you'll  have  to 
see  what  shape  it's  in  for  drying  film.  Stop  all  the 

; 

cracks  so  dust  can't  blow  in.  I  want  to  start  taking 
scenes  to-morrow  morning,  you  know.  I've  got  two 
hundred  feet  of  raw  stock  to  work  with  till  the  other 
gets  here.  I've  got  to  develop  my  tests  before  to- 
morrow so  I'll  know  what  I'm  doing.  I  can't  afford 
to  spoil  any  film." 

"Well,  hardly,"  Andy  agreed.     "By  gracious,  I 


hope  you're  making  the  rest  of  the  bunch  hump  them- 
selves, too.  Honest,  I'd  die  if  I  saw  anybody  sitting 
around  in  the  shade,  right  now !  " 

"  Andy,  did  you  go  and  take  that  shelf  after  all  ?  " 
came  the  reproachful  voice  of  Rosemary  from  the 
kitchen,  and  Luck  retreated  by  way  of  the  front  door 
without  telling  Andy  just  how  busy  the  other  boys 
were. 

The  "ketch-all,"  where  Big  Medicine  and  Pink 
were  clearing  out  the  accumulation  of  years,  was  en- 
veloped in  a  cloud  of  dust.  Down  in  the  corral  a 
dozen  horses  were  circling,  with  Applehead  moving 
cautiously  about  in  the  middle  dragging  his  loop  and 
making  ready  for  a  throw.  There  was  one  snuffy 
little  bay  gelding  that  he  meant  to  turn  over  to  Luck 
for  a  saddle  horse,  and  he  wanted  to  get  him  caught 
and  in  the  stable  before  showing  him  to  Luck. 
Happy  Jack  was  wobbling  up  the  path  with  an  over- 
sized sack  of  potatoes  balanced  on  his  shoulder,  and 
his  face  a  deep  crimson  from  the  heat  and  his  exer- 
tions. Down  in  the  stable  the  little  black  dog,  en- 
livened by  the  plate  of  bones  Rosemary  had  given 
him,  had  scented  the  cat  in  the  loft  and  was  barking 
hysterically  up  the  ladder. 

Luck  stepped  out  briskly,  cheered  by  the  atmos- 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS       169 

phere  of  bustling  preparation  which  surrounded  him. 
That  he  was  the  moving  spirit'  which  directed  all 
these  activities  stimulated  him  like  good  old  wine. 
It  was  for  his  Big  Picture  that  they  were  preparing. 
Already  his  brain  was  at  work  upon  the  technique  of 
picture  production,  formulating  a  system  which 
should  as  far  as  possible  eliminate  the  risk  of  failure 
because  of  the  handicaps  under  which  he  must  work. 

Having  to  be  his  own  camera-man,  and  to  work 
without  an  assistant,  piled  high  the  burden  of  work 
and  responsibility ;  but  he  could  not  afford  to  pay  the 
salaries  such  assistants  would  demand.  He  had  a 
practical  knowledge  of  camera  craft,  since  he  had 
worked  his  way  up  through  all  branches  of  the  game, 
and  he  was  sure  that  with  practice  he  could  do  the 
photographic  work.  He  hoped  to  teach  Andy  enough 
about  it  so  that  he  could  help ;  Andy  seemed  to  have 
an  adaptability  superior  to  some  of  the  others  and 
would  learn  the  rudiments  readily,  Luck  believed. 

The  lack  of  a  leading  woman  was  another  handi- 
cap. He  could  not  afford  to  hire  one,  and  he  could 
not  very  well  weave  a  love  story  into  his  plot  without 
a  woman.  He  was  going  to  try  Rosemary,  since  her 
part  would  consist  mostly  of  riding  in  and  out  of 
scenes  and  looking  pretty, —  at  least  in  the  earlier 


170        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

portion.  And  by  the  time  he  was  ready  to  produce 
the  dramatic  scenes,  he  hoped  that  she  would  be  able 
to  act  the  part.  It  was  a  risk,  of  course,  and  down 
deep  in  his  heart  he  feared  that  much  of  her  charm 
would  never  reach  the  screen;  but  he  must  manage 
somehow,  since  there  would  be  no  money  to  spend  on 
salaries.  He  ought  to  have  a  character  woman,  too, 
—  which  he  lacked. 

But  other  things  he  did  have,  and  they  were  the 
things  that  would  count  most  for  success  or  failure. 
He  had  his  real  boys,  for  instance;  and  he  had  his 
real  country ;  and,  last  and  most  important  of  all,  he 
had  his  story  to  tell.  In  spite  of  his  weariness,  Luck 
was  almost  happy  that  first  afternoon  at  Applehead's 
ranch.  He  went  whistling  about  his  task  of  direct- 
ing the  others  and  doing  two  men's  work  himself, 
and  he  refused  to  worry  about  anything. 

That. evening  after  supper,  when  they  were  all 
smoking  and  resting  before  Applehead's  big  rock  fire- 
place, Luck's  energy  would  not  let  him  dwell  upon 
the  trivial  incidents  of  their  trip,  which  the  Happy 
Family  were  discussing  with  reminiscent  enjoyment. 
Applehead's  booming  laugh  was  to  Luck  as  a  vague 
accompaniment  to  his  own  thoughts  darting  here  and 
there  among  his  plans. 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS        171 

"  Aw,  gwan !  "  Happy  Jack  was  exclaiming  in  his 
habitual  tone  of  protest.  "  Conductor  lied  to  me,  is 
how  I  come  to  be  over  to  that  place  when  the  train 
started  to  pull  out.  I  was  buyin'  something.  I 
wasn't  talking  to  no  Mexican  girl.  I  betche — " 

"  ISTow,  while  we're  all  together,"  Luck  broke  sud- 
denly into  Happy's  explanation,  "  I'm  just  going 
over  the  scenario  from  start  to  finish  and  assign  your 
parts.  Applehead,  I'm  going  to  cast  you  for  the 
sheriff.  You  won't  need  to  do  any  acting  at  all  — " 

"  We-ell,  if  I  do,  I  calc'late  I  got  some  idee  tiH 
how  a  shurf  had  oughta  ack,"  Applehead  informed 
him  with  a  boastful  note  in  his  voice,  and  pulled  him- 
self up  straighter  in  his  chair.  "  I  was  'lected  shurf 
uh  this  county  four  different  terms  right  hand  run- 
nin',  and  if  I  do  say  it,  they  wasn't  nobody  ever  said 
I  didn't  do  my  duty.  Ary  man  I  went  after,  I  come 
purty  near  bringin'  him  into  camp,  now  I'm  tellin' 
ye!  This  here  old  girl  has  shore  talked  out  in 
meetin',  in  her  time,  and  there  wasn't  ary  man 
wanted  to  face  her  down  in  an  argument,  now  I'm  I 
tellin'  ye."  He  got  up  and  took  his  old  six-shooter 
off  the  mantel  and  held  it  lovingly  in  his  palm. 
Very  solemnly  he  licked  his  thumb  and  polished  a 
certain  place  along  the  edge  of  the  yellow  ivory  han- 


172        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

die,  and  held  it  so  the  Happy  Family  could  see  three 
tiny  notches. 

"  Them's  three  argyments  she  shore  settled,"  he 
stated  grimly,  and  turned  slowly  upon  Luck. 
"  Yes-s,  I  calc'late  I  can  play  shurf  for  ye,  all  right 
enough." 

Luck  looked  up  at  him  with  his  eyes  shining,  re- 
membering how  staunch  a  friend  Applehead  had 
been  in  times  past,  and  how  even  his  boastings  were 
but  a  naive  recognition  of  facts  concerning  himself. 
Applehead  Forrman  was  fifty-six  years  old,  but  Luck 
could  not  at  that  moment  recall  a  man  more  danger- 
ous to  meet  as  an  enemy  or  more  loyal  to  have  as  a 
friend. 

"I  calc'late  you  can,"  he  agreed  in  his  soft, 
friendly  drawl.  "  Sit  down  and  turn  your  good  ear 
this  way,  Applehead,  so  this  story  can  soak  in. 
You'll  see  where  you  come  in  as  sheriff,  and  you'll 
eabe  just  what  you'll  have  to  do.  Bud,  here,  will  be 
the  outlaw  that  blows  into  the  cow-camp  and  begins 
to  mix  things.  He's  the  one  you'll  have  to  settle. 
So  here's  the  way  the  story  runs :  " 

"  Say,  boss,  make  it  short  and  sweet,  can't  you  ?  " 
Andy  begged.  He  was  sitting  on  the  floor  with  his 
head  against  Rosemary's  knees,  and  his  eyelids  were 


UNEXPECTED  GUESTS       173 

drooping  drowsily.  "  By  gracious,  nobody'll  have 
to  sing  me  to  sleep  to-night !  I'm  about  ready  to  hit 
the  hay  right  now." 

"  I'll  cut  out  the  atmosphere  and  just  stick  to  the 
action,  then,"  Luck  conceded.  "  I  want  to  get  you 
all  placed,  so  we  can  get  to  work  in  the  morning 
without  any  delay.  Sdbe  ?  " 

11  Shoot,"  murmured  Pink,  opening  his  eyes  with 
some  effort.  "  I  can  listen  for  five  minutes,  maybe." 

"  I  can't,  I  don't  believe,"  the  Native  Son  yawned. 
"  But  go  ahead,  amigo.  My  heart's  with  you,  any- 
way, whether  my  eyes  are  open  or  shut." 

Luck  was  pretty  sleepy  himself,  after  two  nights 
and  a  day  spent  in  a  chair  car,  with  another  day  of 
hard  labor  to  finish  the  ordeal.  But  his  enthusiasm 
had  never  been  keener  than  when,  in  the  land  of 
sage  and  cactus,  he  first  unfolded  his  precious  sce- 
nario and  bent  forward  to  rea4  by  the  light  of  the 
fire.  He  forgot  to  skip  the  "  atmosphere."  Scene 
by  scene  he  lived  the  story  through.  Scene  by 
scene  he  saw  his  Big  Picture  grow  vivid  as  ever 
the  reality  would  be.  Once  or  twice  he  glanced  up 
and  saw  Applehead  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows 
on  his  knees  and  his  pipe  gone  cold  in  his  fingers,  ab- 
sorbed, living  the  story  even  as  Luck  lived  it. 


174        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

A  long,  rumbling  snore  stopped  him  with  a  mental 
jolt.  He  came  back  to  reality  and  looked  at  the 
Happy  Family.  Every  one  of  them,  save  Rose- 
mary, was  sound  asleep;  and  even  Rosemary  was 
dreaming  at  the  fire  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  and 
her  fingers  moving  caressingly  through  the  uncon- 
scious Andy's  brown  hair. 

"  Let  'em  be.  You  go  ahead  and  read  it  out," 
Applehead  muttered,  impatient  of  the  pause. 

So  Luck,  with  his  audience  dwindled  to  one  bald- 
headed  old  rangeman,  read  the  story  of  what  he 
meant  to  create  out  there  in  the  wild  spaces  of 
Mexico. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

JUST    A    FEW   UNFORESEEN    OBSTACLES 

IT  is  surprising  how  much  time  is  consumed  by  the 
little  things  of  life, —  unimportant  in  theni- 
solves,  yet  absolutely  necessary  to  a  satisfactory  ac- 
complishment of  the  big  things.  Luck,  looking 
ahead  into  the  next  day,  confidently  expected  to  be 
making  scenes  by  the  time  the  light  was  right, —  say 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  had  chosen  several 
short,  unimportant  scenes,  such  as  the  departure  of 
old  Dave  Wiswell,  his  cattleman  of  the  picture,  from 
the  ranch ;  his  return,  and  the  saddling  of  horses  and 
riding  away  of  the  boys.  Also  he  meant  to  make  a 
scene  of  the  arrival  of  the  sheriff  after  having  re- 
ceived word  of,  the  presence  of  Big  Medicine,  the 
outlaw,  at  the  ranch.  Rosemary,  too,  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  old  Dave,  must  run  down  to  the  corral  to  meet 
her  father.  Scattered  scenes  they  were,  occurring  in 
widely  separated  parts  of  the  story.  But  they  had 
to  be  made,  and  they  required  no  especial  "  sets  "  of 
scenery ;  and  other  work,  such  as  the  building  of  the 


176        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

stage  for  interior  sets,  could  go  on  with  few  inter- 
ruptions. The  boys  would  have  to  work  in  their 
make-up,  but  since  the  make-up  was  to  be  nothing 
more  than  a  sharpening  of  the  features  to  make  them 
look  absolutely  natural  upon  the  screen,  it  would 
not  be  uncomfortable.  This  was  what  Luck  had 
planned  for  that  day. 

Before  breakfast  he  had  selected  a  site  for  his 
stage,  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  hill  back  of  the  house, 
where  it  would  be  partially  sheltered  from  the  sweep- 
ing winds  of  New  Mexico.  All  day  he  would  have 
the  sun  behind  him  while  he  worked,  and  he  consid- 
ered the  situation  an  ideal  one.  He  had  the  lumber 
hauled  up  there  and  unloaded,  while  Rosemary  and 
Applehead  were  cooking  breakfast  for  ten  hungry 
people.  He  laid  out  his  foundation  and  explained 
to  the  boys  just  how  it  should  be  built,  and  even  sac- 
rificed his  appetite  to  his  impatience  by  going  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  where  he  remembered  seeing 
some  old  barbed  wire  strung  along  a  fence  to  keep  it 
;off  the  ground  so  that  stock  could  not  tangle  in  it. 
He  got  the  wire  and  brought  it  back  with  him  to 
guy  out  the  uprights  for  the  diffusers.  So  on  the 
whole  he  began  the  day  as  well  as  even  he  could  de- 
sire. 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  177 

Then  little  hindrances  began  to  creep  in  to  delay 
him.  For  one  thing,  the  Happy  Family  had  only  a 
comedy  acquaintance  with  grease  paint,  and  their 
make-up  reminded  Luck  unpleasantly  of  Bently 
Brown's  stories.  As  they  appeared  one  by  one,  with 
their  comically  crooked  eyebrows  and  their  rouge- 
widened  lips  and  staring,  deep-shadowed  eyes,  Luck 
sent  them  back  to  take  it  all  off  and  start  over  again 
under  his  supervision.  The  outcome  was  that  he 
gave  a  full  hour  to  making  up  the  faces  of  his  charac- 
ters and  telling  them  how  to  do  it  themselves.  Even 
Rosemary  made  her  brows  too  heavy  and  her  lips  too 
red,  and  her  cheeks  were  flushed  unevenly.  Luck 
was  a  busy  man  that  morning,  but  he  was  not  taking 
scenes  by  nine  o'clock,  for  all  his  haste. 

With  a  kindly  regard  for  Rosemary's  nervousness 
lest  she  fail  him,  he  set  up  his  camera  and  told  her 
to  walk  down  part  way  to  the  corral,  looking  —  sup- 
posedly—  to  see  if  her  dad  ha'd  come  home.  She 
must  stand  there  irresolutely,  then  turn  and  walk 
f  back  toward  the  camera,  registering  the  fact  that  she 
was  worried.  That  sounda  simple  enough,  doesn't 
it? 

What  Luck  most  wanted  was  to  satisfy  himself  as 
to  whether  Rosemary  could  possibly  play  the  part  of 


178        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

old  Dave's  daughter.  If  she  could,  he  would  sleep 
sounder  that  night ;  if  she  could  not, —  Luck  was  not 
at  all  clear  as  to  what  he  should  do  if  she  failed.  He 
told  her  just  where  to  walk  into  the  "  scene,"  which 
is  the  range  of  the  camera.  He  went  down  part  way 
to  the  corral  and  drew  a  line  with  his  toe,  and  told 
her  to  stop  when  she  reached  that  line  and  to  look 
away  up  the  trail  which  wound  down  among  the 
rocks  and  sage.  When  he  called  to  her  she  was  to 
turn  and  walk  back,  trying  to  imagine  that  she  was 
much  worried  and  disappointed. 

"  Tour  dad  was  to  have  come  last  night,"  Luck 
suggested.  "  You  tried  to  keep  him  from  going  in 
the  first  place,  and  now  we've  got  to  establish  the  fact 
that  he  is  away  behind  time  getting  home.  You 
know,  this  is  where  his  horse  falls  with  him,  and  he 
lies  out  all  night,  and  Big  Medicine  brings  him  in 
next  day.  You  kind  of  have  a  hunch  that  something 
is  wrong,  and  you  keep  looking  for  him.  Sabe." 
He  fussed  with  the  camera,  adjusting  it  to  what 
seemed  to  him  the  right  focus.  "  Want  to  rehearse  it 
first  ?  "  he  added  considerately. 

"  !N"o,"  Eosemary  gasped,  "  I  don't.  I  know  how 
to  walk,  and  how  to  turn  around  and  come  back. 
I've  been  doing  those  things  for  twenty-two  years  or 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  179 

so,  but  Luck  Lindsay,  if  you  don't  let  me  do  it  right 
away  quick,  I  just  know  I'll  stub  my  toe  and  fall 
down,  or  something !  "  The  worst  of  it  was,  she 
meant  what  she  said.  Rosemary,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
was  so  scared  that  her  teeth  chattered. 

"  All  right,  you  go  on  and  do  it  now,"  Luck  per- 
mitted, and  began  to  turn  the  crank  at  seventeen  in 
order  to  hold  her  action  slow,  while  he  watched  her. 
Groaning  inwardly,  he  continued  to  turn,  while  Rose- 
mary went  primly  down  the  winding  trail,  stood  with 
her  toes  on  the  line  Luck  had  marked  for  her,  gazed 
stiffly  off  to  the  right,  and  then,  when  he  called  to 
her,  turned  and  came  back,  staring  fixedly  over  his 
head.  You  have  seen  little  girls  with  an  agonized 
self-consciousness  walk  up  an  aisle  to  a  platform 
where  they  must  bow  to  their  fathers  and  mothers 
and  their  critical  schoolmates  and  "  speak  a  piece." 
Rosemary  resembled  the  most  bashful  little  girl  that 
you  can  recall. 

"  All  right,"  said  Luck  tonelessly,  and  placed  his 
palm  over  the  lens  while  he  gave  the  crank  another 
turn.  "We'll  try  it  again  to-morrow.  Don't 
worry.  You'll  get  the  hang  of  it  all  right." 

His  very  smile,  meant  to  encourage  her,  brought 
swift  tears  that  rolled  down  and  streaked  the  powder 


180        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

and  rouge  on  her  cheeks.  She  had  made  a  mess  of  it 
all;  she  knew  that  just  as  well  as  Luck  knew  it. 
He  gave  her  shoulder  a  reassuring  pat  as  she  went 
by,  and  that  finished  Rosemary.  She  retreated  into 
the  gloomy,  one-windowed  bedroom  with  its  litter  of 
half-unpacked  suitcases  and  an  overflowing  trunk, 
and  she  cried  heartbrokenly  because  she  knew  she 
would  never  in  this  world  be  able  to  forget  that  ter- 
rible, winking  eye  and  the  clicking  whirr  of  Luck's 
camera.  Just  to  think  of  facing  it  gave  her  a 
"  goose-flesh  "  chill, —  and  she  did  so  want  to  help 
Luck! 

With  the  Happy  Family  and  old  Dave,  Luck  fared 
better.  They,  fortunately  for  him,  were  already 
what  he  called  camera-broke.  They  could  forget 
all  about  the  camera  while  they  caught  and  saddled 
their  horses.  They  -could  mount  and  ride  away  un- 
concernedly without  even  thinking  of  trying  to  act. 
Luck's  spirits  rose  a  little  while  he  turned  the  cranK, 
and  just  for  pure  relief  at  the  perfect  naturalness  of 
it,  he  gave  that  scene  an  extra  ten  feet  of  footage. 

With  Applehead  he  had  some  difficulty.  Apple- 
head  looked  the  part  of  sheriff,  all  right.  He  wore 
his  trousers  tucked  inside  his  boots  because  he  always 
wore  them  so,  especially  when  he  rode.  He  wore  his 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  181 

big  six-shooter  buckled  snugly  about  his  middle  in- 
stead of  dangling  far  down  bis  thigh,  because  he  had 
always  worn  it  that  way.  He  wore  his  sheriff's 
badge  pinned  on  his  vest  and  his  coat  unbuttoned,  so 
that  the  wind  blew  it  open  now  and  then  and  revealed 
the  star.  Altogether  he  looked  exactly  as  he  had 
looked  when  he  was  serving  one  of  his  four  terms  of 
office.  But  when  he  faced  the  camera,  he  was  in- 
clined to  strut,  and  Luck  had  no  negative  to  waste. 
He  resorted  to  strategy,  which  consisted  of  a  little 
wholesome  sarcasm. 

"  Listen,  Applehead !  the  public  is  going  to  get  the 
idea  that  you  sure  hate  yourself ! "  he  remarked, 
standing  with  his  hands  on  his  hips  while  Apple- 
head  came  strutting  into  the  foreground.  "You'll 
never  make  any  one  believe  you  were  ever  a  real, 
honest-to-God  sheriff.  They'll  put  you  down  as  an 
extra  picked  up  through  a  free  employment  agency 
and  feeling  like  you  owned  the  plant  because  you're 
earning  a  couple  of  dollars.  Go  back  down  there  to 
your  horse  and  wait  till  some  of  that  importance 
evaporates !  " 

Applehead  went  off  swearing  to  himself,  and  Luck 
got  a  fifteen-foot  scene  of  the  departure  of  a  very 
indignant  sheriff  who  is  with  difficulty  holding  his 


182        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

anger  subordinate  to  his  official  dignity.  Before  he 
had  time  to  recover  his  usual  good  humor,  Luck  with 
further  disparaging  comment  called  him  back.  Ap- 
plehead,  smarting  under  the  sarcasm,  came  ready 
for  war,  and  Luck  turned  the  crank  until  the  sheriff 
was  almost  within  reach  of  him. 

"  Gol  darn  you,  Luck,  I'll  take  that  there  camery 
and  bust  it  over  your  danged  head !  "  he  spluttered. 
"  I'll  show  ye !  Call  me  a  bum  that's  wearin'  a 
shurf's  star  fer  the  first  time  in  his  life,  will  ye! 
Why,  I'll  jest  about  wear  ye  out  if  — " 

"  All  right,  pard ;  I  was  just  aiming  to  make  you 
come  up  looking  mad.  You  did  fine."  Luck 
stopped  to  roll  a  smoke  as  though  nothing  had  oc- 
curred but  tiresome  routine. 

Applehead  looked  down  at  him  uncertainly.  He 
looked  at  the  Happy  Family,  saw  them  grinning,  and 
gave  a  mollified  chuckle.  "  We-ell,  you  was  takin' 
a  danged  long  chance,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh,  boy !  "  he 
warned.  "  I  was  all  set  to  tangle  with  yuh ;  and  if  I 
had,  I  reckon  I'd  a  spiled  something  'fore  I  got 
through." 

It  was  noon  by  the  sun,  and  a  film  of  haze  was 
spreading  across  the  sky.  Luck  shot  another  scene 
or  two  and  shouldered  his  precious  camera  reluc- 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  183 

tantly,  when  Kosemary,  red-lidded  but  elaborately 
cheerful  in  her  manner,  called  them  in  to  dinner. 

"  She's  goin'  to  storm,  shore's  you  live,"  Apple- 
head  predicted,  sniffing  into  the  wind  like  a  dog  con- 
fronted by  a  strange  scent.  A  little  later  he  looked 
up  from  his  full  plate  with  a  worried  air.  "  How's 
a  storm  goin'  to  hit  ye,  Luck  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Kinda 
put  a  stop  to  the  pitcher  business,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  !Not  if  it  snows,  it  won't,"  Luck  answered  calmly, 
helping  himself  to  the  brown  beans  boiled  with  bacon. 
*'  We'll  round  up  a  bunch  of  cattle,  and  I'll  shoot  my 
blizzard  stuff.  I'll  need  more  negative,  though,  for 
that.  If  I  knew  for  sure  it's  going  to  storm  — " 

"  I'm  tellin'  yuh  it  is,  ain't  I  ? "  Applehead  blew 
into  his  saucer  of  coffee, —  his  table  manners  not  be- 
ing the  nicest  in  the  world.  "  I  kin  smell  snow  two 
days  off,  and  that  there  wind  comin'  up  the  canyon 
has  got  snow  behind  it,  now  I'm  tellin'  ye.  'ISTother 
thing,  I  kin  tell  by  the  way  Com^padre  walks,  liftin' 
his  feet  high  and  bushin'  up  what's  left  of  his  tail. 
That  there  cat's  smarter'n  some  humans,  and  he  shore 
kin  smell  snow  comin',  same's  I  do.  He  hates  snow 
worse'n  pizen."  Applehead  drank  his  coffee  in  great 
gulps.  "I'll  bet  he's  huntin'  a  warm  corner  some- 
wheres,  right  now." 


184        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  No,  he  ain't,  by  cripes !  "  Big  Medicine  corrected 
him.  "  That  there  Gome-Paddy  cat  of  yourn  has 
got  worse  troubles  than  snow!  Dog's  got  him  treed 
up  the  windmill.  I  seen  — " 

Applehead  did  not  wait  to  hear  what  Big  Medicine 
had  seen.  He  drank  the  remainder  of  his  coffee  in 
one  great,  scalding  gulp,  and  went  out  to  rescue  hia 
cat  and  to  put  the  fear  of  death  into  the  little  black 
dog.  When  he  returned,  puffing  a  little,  to  his  inter- 
rupted meal  and  had  told  them  a  few  of  the  things  he 
meant  to  do  to  that  dog  if  it  refused  to  mend  its  ways, 
he  declared  again  that  he  could  "  shore  smell  snow 
behind  that  wind." 

"  I  wish  it  would  hold  off  till  that  raw  stock  gets 
here,"  Luck  observed  anxiously.  "  I  wired  the  order 
in,  but  at  that  I'm  afraid  it  won't  get  here  before 
the  end  of  the  week.  I'll  have  one  of  you  boys  pack 
me  some  water  into  the  dark  room  so  I  can  develop 
negatives  right  after  dinner.  I  want  to  see  how 
she's  coming  out  before  I  take  any  more." 

"  I  thought  Andy'd  fixed  a  hose  fer  that  dark 
room,"  Happy  Jack  said  forebodingly.  If  there  was 
water  to  be  carried,  Happy  was  pessimistically  cer- 
tain that  he  would  have  to  carry  it. 

"  I  turned  that  hose  over  to  the  missus  for  a 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  185 

colander,"  Andy  explained  soberly.  "  By  gracious, 
I  couldn't  figure  out  anything  else  it  could  be  used 
for." 

"  Did  you  get  the  barrels  fixed  like  I  said  ?  " 

"  I  sure  did.  Applehead  must  have  had  a  Dutch 
picnic  or  two  out  here,  from  the  number  of  beer  kegs 
scattered  all  over  the  place.  And  a  couple  of  big 
whisky  — " 

"  Them  there  whisky  bai^ls  I  bought  and  used  fer 
water  bar'ls  till  I  got  my  well  bored.  Luck  kin  mind 
the  time  when  we  hauled  water  on  a  sled  outa  the 
arroyo  down  below."  Applehead's  eyes  turned 
anxiously  to  Rosemary,  toward  whom  he  was  begin- 
ning to  show  a  timidly  worshipful  attitude. 

"  You  bet  I  can.  Do  you  remember  the  time  we 
hitched  that  big  bronk  up  with  old  Wall-eye,  to  haul 
water  ?  Got  back  here  a  little  ways  beyond  the  stable 
with  two  barrels  sloshing  over  the  top,  and  the  cat  — 

; 

not  this  one,  but  a  black-and-white  cat,  that  was  — 
the  cat  jumped  out  from  behind  a  buck  brush.     Hot  r 
dog!     That  bronk  went  straight  in  the  air!     Re- 
member that  time  ?  "     Luck  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
to  laugh. 

"  I  shore  do,"  Applehead  chuckled.  "  Luck,  here, 
he  was  walkin'  behind  the  sled  and  drivin', —  and 


186        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

he  wasn't  as  big  as  he  is  now,  even.  That  was  soon 
after  he  come  out  here  to  fatten  up  like.  Little  bit 
of  a  peaked  —  why,  I  bet  he  didn't  weigh  over  a 
( hundred  pounds  after  a  full  meal!  He  was  ridin' 
the  lines  an'  steadyin'  the  bar'ls,  busy  as  a  dog  at  a 
badger  hole,  when  the  cat  jumped  out,  an'  that  there 
bronk  r'ared  back  and  swung  off  short  and  hit  fur  the 
mesa;  and  Luck  here  a-hangin'  and  hollerin',  an'  me 
a-leggin'  it  to  ketch  up,  and  bar'ls  teeterin'  and  — 
Mind  how  you  was  bound  you'd  kill  that  cat  uh 
mine  ? "  he  asked  Luck,  tears  of  laughter  dimming 
his  eyes.  "  That  was  ole  Leather  Lungs.  He  tuk 
sick  an'  died,  year  after  that.  Luck  shore  was 
mad  enough  to  eat  that  thar  cat,  now  I'm  tellin' 
yuh!" 

The  Happy  Family  laughed  together  over  the  pic- 
ture Applehead  had  crudely  painted  for  them.  But 
Luck,  although  he  had  started  the  story,  already  was 
slipping  away  from  the  present  and  was  trying  to  peer 
into  the  future.  He  did  not  even  hear  what  Apple- 
head  was  saying  to  keep  the  boys  in  a  roar  of  mirth. 
He  was  mentally  reckoning  the  number  of  days  since 
he  had  wired  his  order  for  a  C.  O.  D.  shipment  of 
negative  to  be  rushed  to  Albuquerque.  Two  days  in 
Los  Angeles,  getting  ready  for  the  venture ;  two  days 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  187 

on  the  way  to  Applehead's  ranch,  one  day  here, — 
five  days  altogether.  He  had  told  them  to  rush  the 
order.  If  they  did,  there  was  a  chance  that  it  might 
have  arrived.  He  decided  suddenly  to  make  the  trip 
and  see ;  but  first  he  would  develop  the  exposed  nega- 
tive of  the  forenoon's  work.  He  got  up  with  that 
businesslike  air  which  the  Happy  Family  had  already 
begun  to  recognize  as  a  signal  for  quick  action,  and 
took  off  his  coat. 

"  Happy,  I  wish  you  and  Bud  would  carry  me 
some  water,"  he  said.  "  I'll  show  you  where  to  put 
it ;  I'm  going  to  need  a  lot.  Will  you  help  me  wind 
the  film  on  my  patent  rack,  Andy?  And  I'll  want 
that  little  team,  hitched  to  the  buckboard  so  I  can  go 
to  town  after  I'm  through.  I've  got  some  hopes  of 
my  negative  being  there." 

"  Want  the  rest  of  us  to  work  on  that  stage,  don't 
you,  boss  ?  "  Weary  asked,  pausing  in  the  doorway  to 
roll  a  smoke.  "  And  please  may  I  wipe  off  my  eye- 
brows ?  " 

11  Why,  sure !  —  to  both  questions,"  answered 
Xuck,  going  over  to  his  camera.  "  I  can't  do  much 
more  till  I  get  more  negative,  even  with  the  light 
right,  which  it  isn't.  You  go  ahead  and  finish  the 
stage  this  afternoon.  And  be  sure  the  uprights  are 


188        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

guyed  for  a  high  wind;  she  sure  can  blow,  in  this 
man's  country." 

"  You're  danged  right,  she  can  blow !  "  Applehead 
testified  emphatically.  "  She  can  blow,  and  she's 
goin'  to  blow.  You  want  to  take  your  overshoes  and 
mittens,  boy,  when  you  start  out  fer  town.  You 
know  how  cold  she  can  get  on  that  mesa.  Chances 
are  you'll  come  back  facin'  a  blizzard.  And,  say! 
I  wisht  you'd  take  that  there  dog  back  with  ynh, 
Luck,  'cause  if  yuh  don't,  him  and  me's  shore  goin' 
to  tangle,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  Mighty  funny  note 
when  a  cat  dassent  walk  acrost  his  own  dooryard  in 
broad  daylight,  no  more!  Poor  ole  Compadre  was 
shakin'  like  a  leaf  when  I  clumb  up  and  got  him 
down  off'n  the  windmill.  Way  the  wind  was 
whistlin'  up  there,  the  chances  are  he's  done  ketched 
cold  in  'is  tail,  and  if  he  has,  yuh  better  see  to  it  that 
thar  dog  ain't  within  gunshot  uh  me,  now  I'm  tellin' 

yuh!" 

Luck  did  not  hear  half  the  tirade.  He  had  gone 
into  the  dark  room  and  was  dissolving  hypo  for  the 
fixing  bath,  while  the  boys  tramped  in  with  full 
water  buckets  and  began  to  fill  the  barrels  he  had 
placed  in  a  row  along  the  wall.  He  was  impatient 
to  see  how  his  work  of  the  forenoon  would  come  out 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  189 

of  the  developer,  and  lie  was  quite  as  impatient  to  be 
on  his  way  to  town.  Whether  he  admitted  it  or  not, 
he  had  a  good  deal  of  faith  in  Applehead's  weather 
forecasts;  he  remembered  how  often  the  old  fellow 
had  predicted  storms  in  the  past  when  Luck  spent  a 
long  winter  with  him  here  in  this  same  adobe  dwell- 
ing. If  it  did  snow,  he  must  have  plenty  of  negative 
for  his  winter  scenes ;  for  snow  never  laid  long  on  the 
level  here,  and  he  had  a  full  reel  of  winter  stuff  to 
make. 

He  called  Andy  to  come  and  help  him  wind  his 
exposed  film  on  the  crude,  improvised  film  racks  that 
had  lately  been  beer  kegs,  and  closed  the  dark  room 
door  upon  the  last  empty  bucket  that  had  been  carried 
in  full.  In  the  dull  light  of  the  ruby  lamp  he  care- 
fully wound  his  long  strip  of  exposed  negative, 
emulsion  side  out,  around  the  keg  which  Andy  held 
for  him.  His  developer  bath  was  ready,  and  he 
immersed  the  film-jacketed  keg  slowly,  with  due  re- 
gard for  bubbles  of  air. 

"You  may  not  know  it,  but  right  here  in  this 
dark  room  is  where  I  look  for  the  real  test  of  success 
or  failure,"  he  confided  to  Andy,  while  he  rocked  the 
keg  gently  in  the  barrel.  "  I  wish  I  could  afford  a 
good  camera-man;  but  then,  the  most  of  them 


wouldn't  work  with  this  kind  of  an  outfit;  they'd 
demand  all  the  laboratory  conveniences,  and  that 
would  run  into  money.  Ever  notice  that  when  you 
can't  get  anything  but  the  crudest  kind  of  tools  to 
work  with,  you  generally  have  to  use  them  yourself  ? 
But  it  will  take  more  than  —  oh,  hell!  " 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  Andy  Green  bent  his  brown 
head  anxiously  down  beside  Luck's  fast  graying  mop 
of  hair,  and  peered  at  the  images  coming  out  of  the 
yellowish  veil  that  had  hidden  them.  "  Ain't  they 
good?" 

Luck  reached  into  the  water  tank  and  splashed  a 
little  water  on  his  film  to  check  it  while  he  looked. 
"  Xow,  what  in  the  name  of  — "  He  scowled  per- 
plexedly down  at  the  streaked  strips.  ""What  do 
you  suppose  streaked  it  like  that  ? "  He  lifted 
worried,  gray  eyes  to  Andy's  apprehensive  frown, 
and  looked  again  disgustedly  at  the  negative  before 
he  dropped  it  back  with  a  splash  into  the  developer. 

"  No  good ;  she's  ruined,"  he  said  in  the  flat  tone 
[of  a  great  disappointment.  "Eighty  feet  of  film 
gone  to  granny.  Well,  that's  luck  for  you !  " 

Andy  reached  gingerly  into  the  barrel  and  brought 
up  the  keg  so  that  he  could  take  another  look.  He 
had  owned  a  kodak  for  years  and  had  done  enough 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  191 

amateur   developing   to  know   that   something  had 
gone  very  wrong  here. 

"  What  ails  the  darned  thing  ?  "  he  asked  fretfully, 
turning  to  Luck,  who  was  scowling  abstractedly  into 
his  barrels  of  "  soup." 

"  You  can  search  me,"  Luck  replied  dully. 
"  Looks  like  I'd  been  stung  with  a  bunch  of  bum 
chemicals.  Either  that,  or  something's  wrong  with 
our  tanks  here."  He  reached  down  and  pulled  up 
the  keg  by  its  hooped  top,  glimpsed  a  stain  on  his 
finger  and  thumb  and  let  the  keg  slip  hastily  over 
into  the  pure  water  so  that  he  could  examine  tha 
stains. 

"  Iron !  Iron,  sure  as  thunder !  "  he  exclaimed 
suddenly.  "  Those  iron  hoops  are  what  did  it."  He 
rubbed  his  hand  vexedly.  "  I  knew  better  than  that, 
too.  I  don't  see  why  I  didn't  think  about  those 
hoops.  Of  all  the  idiotic,  fool  — " 

"  What  kinda  brain  do  you  think  you've  got  in 
your  head,   anyway?"   Andy 'broke   in  spiritedly., 
"Way  you've  been  working  it  lately,  engineering, 
every  blamed  detail  yourself,  you  oughtn't  to  wonder 
if  one  little  thing  gets  by  you." 

"  Well,  it's  done  now,"  Luck  dismissed  the 
accident  stoically.  "  Lucky  I  started  in  on  those 


192        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

costume  and  make-up  tests  of  all  you  fellows,  and 
that  scene  of  your  wife's.  And  if  I'd  used  the  other 
half  barrel  instead  of  this  five-gallon  keg  for  a  start- 
off,  I'd  have  spoiled  the  whole  bunch.  I'll  have  to 
throw  out  all  that  developer.  Blast  the  luck !  Well, 
let's  get  busy."  He  pulled  out  the  keg  and  held  it  up 
for  another  disgusted  look.  "  I  won't  bother  fixing 
that  at  all.  Call  Happy  and  Bud  back,  will  you, 
and  have  them  roll  this  barrel  of  developer  out  and 
ditch  it  ?  And  then  take  those  two  half  barrels  you 
were  going  to  fix,  and  wrap  them  with  clothesline, — 
that  cotton  line  on  one  of  the  trunks, —  and  knock  off 
all  the  hoops.  I'm  going  to  beat  it  to  'Querque  and 
see  if  that  stuff's  there.  We'll  try  developing  the 
rest  this  evening,  after  I  get  back.  Darn  such 
luck!" 

The  five  thousand  feet  of  negative  had  not  arrived, 
but  there  was  a  letter  from  the  company  saying  that 
they  had  shipped  it.  Luck,  bone-tired  and  cold  from 
his  fifteen-mile  drive  across  the  unsheltered  mesa, 
turned  away  from  the  express  office,  debating  whether 
to  wait  for  the  film  or  go  back  to  the  ranch.  It  would 
be  a  pretty  cold  drive  back,  in  the  edge  of  the  evening 
and  facing  that  raw  wind;  he  decided  that  he  would 
save  time  by  waiting  here  in  town,  since  he  could  not 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  193 

go  on  with  his  picture  without  more  negative.  He 
turned  back  impulsively,  put  his  head  in  at  the  door 
of  the  express  office,  and  called  to  the  clerk : 

"  When  do  you  get  your  next  express  from  the 
East,  brother?  I'll  wait  for  that  negative  if  you 
think  it's  likely  to  come  by  to-morrow  noon  or  there- 
abouts." 

"  Might  come  in  on  the  eight  o'clock  train  to-night, 
or  to-morrow  morning.  You  say  it  was  shipped  the 
sixteenth  ?  Ought  to  be  here  by  morning,  sure." 

"  I'll  take  a  chance,"  Luck  said  half  to  himself, 
and  closed  the  door. 

A  round-shouldered,  shivering  youth,  who  had  been 
leaning  apathetically  against  the  side  of  the  building, 
moved  hesitatingly  up  to  him.  "  Say,  do  I  get  it 
right  that  you're  in  the  movies  ?  "  he  inquired  anx- 
iously. "  Heard  you  mention  looking  for  negative. 
Haven't  got  a  job  for  a  fellow,  have  you  ?  " 

Luck  wheeled  and  looked  him  over,  from  his 
frowsy,  soft  green  beaver  hat  w^th  the  bow  at  the 
iback,  to  his  tan  pumps  that  a  prosperous  young  man 
would  have  thrown  back  in  the  closet  six  weeks  be- 
fore, as  being  out  of  season.  The  young  man  grinned 
his  understanding  of  the  appraisement,  and  Luck  saw 
that  his  teeth  were  well-kept,  and  that  his  nails  were 


194        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

clean  and  trimmed  carefully.  He  made  a  quick 
mental  guess  and  hit  very  close  to  the  fellow's  proper 
station  in  life  and  his  present  predicament. 

"  What  end  of  the  business  do  you  know  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  his  face  toward  the  warmth  of  the 
hotel. 

"  Operator.  Worked  two  years  at  the  Bijou  in 
Cleveland.  I'm  down  on  my  luck  now;  thought  I'd 
try  the  California  studios,  because  I  wanted  to  learn 
the  camera,  and  I  figured  on  getting  a  look  at  the 
Fair.  I  stalled  around  out  there  till  my  money  gave 
out,  and  then  I  started  back  to  God's  country."  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  cynically.  "  This  is  about  as 
far  as  I'm  likely  to  get,  unless  I  can  learn  to  do  with- 
out eating  and  a  few  other  little  luxuries,"  he 
summed  up  the  situation  grimly. 

"  Well,  it  won't  hurt  you  to  skip  a  lesson  and  have 
dinner  with  me,"  Luck  suggested  in  the  offhand  way 
that  robbed  the  invitation  of  the  sting  of  charity. 
"  I  always  did  hate  to  eat  alone." 

The  upshot  of  the  meeting  was  that,  when  Luck 
gathered  up  the  lines,  next  day,  and  popped  the  short 
lash  of  Applehead's  homemade  whip  over  the  backs 
of  the  little  bay  team,  and  told  them  to  "  Get  outa 
town  I "  in  a  tone  that  had  in  it  a  boyish  note  of 


UNFORESEEN  OBSTACLES  195 

exultation,  the  thin  youth  hung  to  the  seat  of  the 
bouncing  buckboard  and  wondered  if  Luck  really 
could  drive,  or  if  he  was  half  "stewed"  and  only 
imagined  he  could.  The  thin  youth  had  much  to 
learn  besides  the  science  of  photography  and  some  of 
it  he  learned  during  that  fifteen-mile  drive.  For 
one  thing,  he  learned  that  really  Luck  could  drive. 
Luck  proved  that  by  covering  the  fifteen  miles  in 
considerably  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half  without  los- 
ing any  of  his  precious  load  of  boxed  negative  and 
coiled  garden  hose  and  assistant  camera-man, —  since 
that  was  what  he  intended  to  make  of  the  thin  youth. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

"  I  THINK  YOU  NEED  INDIAN  GIKL  FOE  PIOTTTBJE  " 

STILL  it  did  not  snow,  though  the  wind  blew  from 
the  storm  quarter,  and  Applehead  sniffed  it  and 
made  predictions,  and  Compadre  went  with  his  rem- 
nant of  tail  ruffed  like  a  feather  boa.  Immediately 
after  supper  Luck  attached  his  new  hose  to  the  tank 
faucet  and  developed  the  corral  scenes  which  he  had 
taken,  with  the  thin  youth  taking  his  first  lesson  in 
the  dark  room.  The  thin  youth,  who  said  his  name 
was  Bill  Holmes,  did  not  have  very  much  to  say,  but 
he  seemed  very  quick  to  grasp  all  that  Luck  told  him. 
That  kept  Luck  whistling  softly  between  sentences, 
while  they  wound  the  negative  around  the  roped  half 
barrel  that  had  not  so  much  as  a  six  penny  nail  in  it 
this  time,  so  thoroughly  did  Andy  do  his  work. 

The  whistling  ceased  abruptly  when  Luck  ex- 
amined his  film  by  the  light  of  the  ruby  lamp,  how- 
ever, for  every  scene  was  over-exposed  and  worthless. 
Luck  realized  when  he  looked  at  it  that  the  light  was 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     197 

much  stronger  than  any  he  had  ever  before  photo- 
graphed by,  and  that  he  would  have  to  "  stop  down  " 
hereafter;  the  problem  was,  how  much.  His  light 
tests,  he  remembered,  had  been  made  rather  late  in 
the  afternoon,  when  the  light  was  getting  yellow,  and 
he  had  blundered  in  forgetting  that  the  forenoon 
light  was  not  the  same. 

He  went  ahead  and  put  the  film  through  the  fixing 
bath  and  afterwards  washed  it  carefully,  more  for  the 
practice  and  to  show  Bill  Holmes  how  to  handle  the 
negative  than  for  any  value  the  film  would  have.  He 
discovered  that  Andy  had  not  unpacked  the  rewind- 
ing outfit,  but  since  he  would  not  need  it  until  his 
negative  was  dry,  he  made  no  comment  on  the  sub- 
ject. Bill  Holmes  kept  at  his  heels,  helping  when 
he  knew  what  to  do,  asking  a  question  now  and  then, 
but  silent  for  the  most  part.  Luck  felt  extremely 
optimistic  about  Bill  Holmes,  but  for  all  that  he  was 
depressed  by  his  second  failure  to  produce  good  film. 
A  camera-man,  he  felt  in  his  heart,  might  be  the 
! determining  factor  for  success;  but  he  was  too  stub- 
born to  admit  it  openly  or  even  to  consider  sending 
for  one,  even  if  he  could  have  managed  to  pay  the 
seventy-five  dollars  a  week  salary  for  the  time  it 
would  take  to  produce  the  Big  Picture.  He  could 


198        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

easier  afford  to  waste  a  few  hundred  feet  of  negative 
now,  he  argued  to  himself. 

"  Come  on  down,  and  I'll  show  you  what  I  can 
about  the  camera,"  he  said  to  Bill  Holmes.  "  The 
light's  too  tricky  to-day  to  work  by,  but  I'll  give  you 
a  few  pointers  that  you'll  have  to  keep  in  mind  when 
I'm  too  busy  to  think  about  telling  you.  Once  I  get 
to  directing  a  scene,  I'm  liable  to  be  busy  as  a  one- 
armed  prospector  fighting  a  she-bear  with  cubs.  I'm 
counting  on  you  to  remember  what  all  I've  told  you, 
in  case  I  forget  to  tell  you  again.  You  see,  I've 
ruined  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  negative  already, 
just  by  overlooking  a  couple  of  bets.  You're  here  to 
help  keep  that  from  happening  again.  Sabe  ?  " 

"  Well,  there's  one  or  two  things  I  don't  have  to 
learn,"  Bill  Holmes  told  him  by  way  of  encourage- 
ment. "You  get  the  camera  set  and  ready,  and  I 
can  turn  it  any  speed  you  want.  I'll  guarantee  that 
much.  I  learned  that  all  right  in  projection." 

"  That's  exactly  why  I  brought  you  out  here, 
brother,"  Luck  assured  him.  "  That's  why  — " 

"  Oh,  luck  Lindsay !  "  came  Rosemary's  voice  ex- 
citedly. "Mr.  Forrman  wants  you  right  away 
quick!  Somebody's  coming  that  he  doesn't  know, 
and  he  says  it's  up  to  you !  " 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     199 

"  What's  up  to  me  ?  "  Luck  came  hurrying  down 
the  ladder  backwards.  "  Has  Applehead  gone  as 
crazy  as  his  cat  ?  I've  nothing  to  do  with  strangers 
coming  to  the  ranch." 

"  Yes,"  said  Rosemary,  twinkling  her  brown  eyes 
at  him,  "  but  this  is  a  woman.  Mr.  Forrman  refuses 
to  take  any  responsibility  — " 

"  So  do  I.  I  don't  know  of  any  woman  that's 
liable  to  come  trailing  me  up.  Where  is  she  ?  " 

From  the  doorway  Rosemary  pointed  dramatically, 
and  Luck  went  up  and  stood  beside  her,  rolling  down 
his  sleeves  while  he  stared  at  the  trail.  Down  the 
slope,  head  bent  to  the  whooping  wind,  a  woman  came 
walking  with  a  free,  purposeful  stride  that  spoke 
eloquently  of  accustomedness  to  the  open  land.  Her 
skirts  flapped  but  could  not  impede  her  movements. 
She  seemed  to  be  carrying  some  bright-hued  burden 
upon  her  shoulders,  and  she  was,  without  doubt, 
coming  straight  down  to  the  ranch  as  to  a  much-de- 
sired goal. 

"  You  can  search  me,"  he  said  emphatically  in 
answer  to  Applehead's  question.  "  Must  be  some 
senora  away  off  the  trail.  I  never  saw  her  before  in 
my  life." 

"  We-ell,  now,  that  there  lady  don't  act  like  she's 


200        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

lost,"  Applehead  declared,  watching  her  intently  as 
she  came  on.  "  Aims  to  git  whar  she's  goin',  if  I'm 
any  jedge  of  actions.  An'  she  shore  is  hittin'  fur 
here.  Ain't  been  ary  woman  on  this  ranch  in  ten 
year,  till  Mrs.  Green  come  t'other  day." 

"  She's  none  of  my  funeral ;  I  don't  know  her  from 
Adam,"  Luck  disclaimed,  and  went  back  into  the 
dark  room  as  though  he  had  urgent  business  there, 
which  he  had  not  In  the  back  of  his  mind  was  an 
uneasy  feeling  that  the  newcomer  was  "  some  of  his 
funeral,"  and  yet  he  could  not  tell  how  or  why  she 
should  be.  In  her  walk  there  was  a  teasing  sense  of 
familiarity ;  he  did  not  know  who  she  was,  but  he  felt 
uncomfortably  that  he  ought  to  know.  He  fumbled 
among  the  litter  on  the  shelf,  putting  things  in  order ; 
and  all  the  while  his  ears  were  sharpened  to  the 
sounds  that  came  muffled  through  the  closed  door. 

"  Oh,  Luck  Lindsay !  "  came  Rosemary's  voice  at 
last,  with  what  Luck  fancied  was  a  malicious  note  in 
it.  "  You're  wanted  out  here !  " 

Luck  fumbled  for  a  minute  longer  while  he  racked 
his  brain  for  some  clue  to  this  woman's  identity. 
For  a  man  who  has  lived  the  varied  life  Luck  had 
lived,  his  conscience  was  remarkably  clean;  but  no 
one  enjoys  having  mystery  stalk  unawares  up  to  one's 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     201 

door.  However,  lie  opened  the  door  and  went  out, 
feeling  sensitively  the  curious  expectancy  of  the 
Happy  Family,  and  faced  the  woman  who  stood  just 
beyond  the  doorway.  One  look,  and  he  stopped  dead 
still  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  "  Well,  I'll  be 
darned !  "  he  said  in  a  hushed  tone  of  blank  amaze- 
ment. 

The  woman's  black  eyes  lighted  as  though  flames 
had  darted  up  behind  them.  "How,  Cola?"  she 
greeted  him  in  the  soft,  cooing  tones  of  the  younger 
Indians  whose  voices  have  not  yet  grown  shrill  and 
harsh.  "  Wagalexa  Conka  1 "  It  was  the  tribal 
name  given  him  in  great  honor  by  his  Indians  of 
Pine  Ridge  Agency. 

Through  his  astonishment,  Luck's  face  glowed  at 
the  words.  He  went  up  and  put  out  his  hand,  im- 
pelled by  the  hospitality  which  is  an  unwritten  law 
of  the  old  West,  and  is  not  to  be  broken  save  for  good 
cause. 

"  How !  How !  "  he  answered  her  greeting.  "  You 
long  ways  from  home,  Annie-Many-Ponies !  " 

Annie-Many-Ponies  smiled  in  a  way  to  make 
Happy  Jack  gulp  with  a  sudden  emotion  he  would 
have  denied.  She  flashed  a  quick  glance  around  at 
the  curious  faces  that  regarded  her  so  intently,  and 


202        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

she  eased  her  shawl-wrapped  burden  to  the  ground 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  reached  her  journey's 
end. 

"  Yes,  I  plenty  long  ways,"  she  assented  placidly. 
"  I  don't  stay  by  reservation  no  more.  Too  lone- 
some One  night  I  beat  it.  I  work  for  you  now." 

"  How  you  know  you  work  for  me  ?  "  Luck  felt 
nine  pairs  of  eyes  trying  to  read  his  face.  "  That's 
bad,  you  run  away.  You  better  go  back,  Annie- 
Many-Ponies.  Your  father  — " 

"  Nah !  "  Annie-Many-Ponies  cried  in  swift  re- 
bellion. "  I  work  for  you  all  time,  I  no  want 
monies.  I  got  plenty  wardrobe ;  you  give  me  plenty 
grub ;  I  work  for  you.  I  think  you  need  him  Indian 
girl  in  picture.  I  think  you  plenty  sorry  all  Indians 
go  by  reservation.  You  no  like  for  Indians  go 
home,"  she  stated  with  soft  sympathy.  "  I  sabe  you 
not  got  monies  for  pay  all  thems  Indians.  I  come  be 
Indian  girl  for  you ;  I  not  want  monies.  You  let  me 
stay  —  Wagalexa  Conka !  " 

"  You  come  in  and  eat,  Annie-Many-Ponies," 
Luck  commanded  with  more  gentleness  than  he  was 
accustomed  to  show.  The  girl  must  have  followed 
him  all  the  way  from  Los  Angeles,  and  she  must  have 
walked  all  the  way  out  from  Albuquerque.  All  this 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     203 

she  seemed  to  take  for  granted,  a  mere  detail  of  no 
importance  beside  her  certainty  that  although  he  had 
no  money  to  pay  the  Indians,  he  must  surely  need  an 
Indian  girl  in  his  pictures.  Loyalty  always  touched 
Luck  deeply.  He  had  brought  the  little  black  dog 
back  with  him  and  hidden  it  in  the  stable,  just  be- 
cause the  dog  had  followed  him  all  around  town  and 
had  seemed  so  pleased  when  Luck  was  loading  the 
buckboards  for  the  return  trip.  He  could  not  logi- 
cally repulse  the  manifest  friendliness  of  Annie- 
Many-Ponies. 

He  introduced  her  formally  to  Rosemary,  and  was 
pleased  when  Rosemary  smiled  and  shook  hands  with- 
out the  slightest  hesitation.  The  Happy  Family  he 
lumped  together  in  one  sentence.  "  All  these  my 
company,"  he  told  her.  "  You  eat  now.  By  and  by 
I  think  you  better  go  home." 

Annie-Many-Ponies  looked  at  him  with  smoldering 
eyes,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen,  refusing 
to  sit  down  to  the  table  until  the  main  question  was 
settled. 

"  Why  you  say  that  ?  "  she  demanded,  drawing  her 
brows  down  sullenly.  "  You  got  plenty  more  Indian 
girls?" 

Luck  shook  his  head. 


204        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  You  think  me  not  good-looking  any  more  ? n 
With  her  two  slim  brown  hands  she  pushed  back  the 
shawl  from  her  hair  and  challenged  criticism  of  her 
beauty.  She  was  beautiful, —  there  was  no  gain- 
saying that ;  she  was  so  beautiful  that  the  sight  of  her, 
standing  there  like  an  indignant  young  Minnehaha, 
tingled  the  blood  of  more  than  one  of  the  Happy 
Family.  "  You  think  I  so  homely  I  spoil  your  pic- 
ture?" 

"  I  think  you  must  not  run  away  from  the  reser- 
vation," Luck  parried,  refusing  to  be  cajoled  by  her 
anger  or  her  beauty.  "  You  always  were  a  good  girl, 
Annie-Many-Ponies.  Long  time  ago,  when  you  were 
little  girl  with  the  Buffalo  Bill  show,  you  were  good. 
You  mind  what  Wagalexa  Conka  say  ?  " 

Annie-Many-Ponies  bent  her  head.  "  I  mind  you 
now,  Wagalexa  Conka,"  she  told  him  quickly. 
"  You  tell  me  ride  down  that  big  hill,"  she  threw  one 
hand  out  toward  the  bluff  that  sheltered  the  house. 
"  I  sure  ride  down  like  hell.  I  care  not  for  break  my 
neck,  when  you  want  big  f  punch '  in  picture.  You 
tell  me  be  homely  old  squaw  like  Mrs.  Ghost-Dog,  I 
be  homely  so  dogs  yell  to  look  on  me.  I  mind  you 
plenty  —  but  I  do  not  go  by  reservation  no  more." 

"  Your  father  be  mad  —  I  let  you  stay,  he  maybe 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     205 

shoot  me,"  Luck  argued,  secretly  flattered  by  her 
persistence. 

Annie-Many-Ponies  smiled, —  a  slow,  sphinx-like 
smile,  mysteriously  sweet  and  lingering.  "]STah! 
Not  shoot  you.  I  write  one  letters,  say  I  go  work  for 
you.  Kow  you  write  one  letter  by  Agent,  say  you  let 
me  stay,  say  I  work  for  you,  say  I  good  girl,  say  I  be 
Indian  girl  for  your  picture.  I  mind  you  plenty, 
Wagalexa  Conka !  "  She  smiled  again  coaxingly, 
like  a  child.  "  I  like  you,"  she  stated  simply. 
"  You  good  man.  You  need  Indian  girl,  I  think.  I 
work  for  you.  My  father  not  be  mad;  my  father 
know  you  good  man  for  Indians." 

Luck  turned  from  her  and  gave  the  Happy  Family 
a  pathetic,  what's-a-fellow-going-to-do  look  that  made 
Andy  Green  snort  unexpectedly  and  go  outside.  One 
by  one  the  others  followed  him,  grinning  shamelessly 
at  Luck's  helplessness.  In  a  moment  he  overtook 

them,  wanting  the  support  of  their  judgment. 

| 

"  The  worst  of  it  is,"  he  confessed,  after  he  had  ex- 
plained how  he  had  known  the  girl  since  she  was  a 
barefooted  papoose  with  the  "  Bill "  show,  and  he 
was  Indian  Agent  there ;  "  the  worst  of  it  is,  she's  a 
humdinger  in  pictures.  She  gets  over  big  in  fore- 
ground stuff.  Rides  like  a  whirlwind,  and  as  for 


206        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

dramatic  work,  she  can  put  it  over  half  the  leading 
women  in  the  business  —  that  is,  in  her  line  of  Poco 
hontas  stuff." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  let  her  stay?"  Weary  de- 
manded. "  She  will  anyway  —  mama !  We're  not 
what  you  can  call  overrun  with  women  on  this  job." 

"  Why  don't  you  make  a  squaw-man  outa  Dave  ?  " 
Pink  suggested  boldly,  "  and  let  her  be  his  daughter 
instead  of  Rosemary  ?  " 

"  Say,  what  does  that  there  walka-some-darn-thing 
mean,  that  she  calls  yuh  ?  "  Big  Medicine  wanted  to 
know.  "  By  cripes,  I  hate  talk  I  don't  savey." 

"  Wagalexa  Conka  ?  "  Luck  smiled  shamefacedly. 
"  Oh,  that's  just  a  name  the  Indians  gave  me.  Means 
Big  Turkey,  in  plain  English.  Her  father,  old  Chief 
Big  Turkey,  adopted  me  into  the  tribe,  and  they  call 
me  by  his  name.  Annie-Many-Ponies  has  heard  it 
used  ever  since  she  was  a  kid.  By  tribal  law  I'm  her 
brother.  Well,  what's  the  word,  boys  ?  Shall  we  let 
her  stay  or  not?  We  could  use  her,  all  right,  and 
/put  a  dash  of  old-plains'  color  in  the  picture  that  I 
haven't  got,  as  it  stands.  It's  up  to  you  to  decide." 

"  You're  wrong,"  Pink  grinned.  "  She's  decided 
that,  herself.  Gee,  she's  pretty !  " 

"  Certainly  she  is ;  but  get  this,  boys :     She  isn't 


INDIAN  GIRL  FOR  PICTURE     207 

going  to  stay  just  because  she's  pretty,  and  if  I  had  a 
different  bunch  than  you  fellows,  she'd  have  to  go 
for  that  reason.  I'm  responsible  for  her  —  sabef 
Bill  Holmes,  you  get  this;  I  saw  you  eyeing  her 
pretty  strong.  That  girl  is  the  daughter  of  an  in- 
fluential chief,  and  she  comes  pretty  near  being  the 
pride  of  the  reservation.  There  can't  be  any  romantic 
stuff,  if  they  let  her  stay.  Her  father  and  the  Agent 
will  consent,  if  they  do  consent,  on  the  strength  of  the 
confidence  they  have  in  me.  They're  going  to  keep 
that  confidence.  Get  that,  and  get  it  strong,  because 
I  sure  mean  what  I'm  telling  you."  He  eased  the 
tenseness  with  a  laugh.  "  I  don't  mean  to  offend 
anybody,"  he  said,  "  and  that's  why  I'm  putting  it 
straight  before  the  play  comes  up.  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  has  got  a  heart-twisting  smile,  but  she's  a 
squaw  just  the  same.  She's  got  the  ways  of  the 
Injun  to  the  marrow  of  her  bones,  and  I'll  bet  right 
now  if  you  were  to  shake  her  ha^d  enough,  you'd 
jingle  a  knife  out  of  her  clothes."  He  stopped  and 
lighted  the  cigarette  he  had  been  carefully  rolling. 
"  Well,"  he  finished  after  the  pause,  "  does  she  stay 
or  go?" 

The  Happy  Family  answered  him  with  various 
phrases,  the  meaning  of  which  was  that  he  could 


208        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

suit  himself  about  that;  as  far  as  they  were  con- 
cerned, she  could  stay  and  welcome. 

So  she  stayed,  and  Kosemary  hung  up  a  calico 
curtain  across  the  one  bedroom,  so  that  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  might  have  a  corner  to  call  her  own.  She 
stayed;  and  Luck  rewrote  two  reels  of  his  scenario 
so  that  there  should  be  a  place  in  it  for  a  beautiful 
Indian  girl  who  rode  like  a  whirlwind  and  did  not 
know  the  meaning  of  fear,  and  who  had  a  mind  of  her 
own,  and  who  was  just  exactly  as  harmless  in  that 
camp  as  half  a  quart  of  nitroglycerine,  and  added 
thereby  a  good  bit  to  the  load  of  responsibility  which 
Luck  was  shouldering. 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  -  CATTLE  DRIFTING  BEFORE 

" 


T^ 

JL 


WESTD 

AM.  bleak  mesa  —  snow  —  cattle  drifting  be- 
fore  wind.  Dale  and  Johnny  dis.  riding  to 
foreground.  Reg.  cold  —  horses  leg-weary  —  boys 
all  in—  " 

Out  toward  Bear  Canyon,  where  the  land  to  the 
north  rose  brokenly  to  the  mountains,  Luck  found 
the  bleak  stretches  of  which  he  had  dreamed  that 
night  on  the  observation  platform  of  a  train  speeding 
through  the  night  in  !N"orth  Dakota,  —  a  great  white 
wilderness  unsheltered  by  friendly  forests,  unin- 
habited save  by  wild  things  that  moved  stealthily 
across  its  windswept  ridges.  Beyond,  the  mountains 
rose  barrenly,  more  bleak  than  the  land  that  lay  at 
their  feet. 

"  Pam.  bleak  mesa  —  snow  —  "  With  the  camera 
set  halfway  up  a  gentle  slope  commanding  a  steeper 
hill  beyond,  down  which  the  boys  would  send  the 
cattle  in  a  slow,  uneasy  march  before  the  storm,  Luck 


210        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

focused  his  telephoto  lens  upon  bleakness  enough 
to  satisfy  even  his  voracious  appetite  for  realism. 
Bill  Holmes,  his  tan  pumps  wrapped  in  gunny  sacks 
for  protection  against  the  snow  that  was  a  foot  deep 
on  the  level  and  still  falling,  thrashed  his  body  with 
his  arms,  like  a  windmill  whose  paddles  have  sud- 
denly gone  limp  in  a  high  wind.  When  he  was 
ready,  Luck  stopped  long  enough  to  blow  on  his 
fingers  and  to  turn  and  watch  for  the  signal  from 
Annie-Many-Ponies,  stationed  on  a  higher  ridge  to 
the  right  of  him, —  the  signal  that  the  cattle  were 
coming. 

Through  the  drive  of  the  snowstorm  he  saw  her 
tall,  straight  figure  as  through  a  thin,  shifting,  white 
veil.  The  little  black  dog,  for  whom  she  had  con- 
ceived a  fierce  affection  in  defiance  of  Rosemary's 
tacit  opposition,  was  lying  with  its  tail  curled 
tight  around  its  feet  and  its  nose,  hunting  warmth  in 
the  shelter  of  her  flapping  garments.  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  was  staring  away  to  the  north,  shielding  her; 
keen  eyes  from  the  snow  with  one  slim,  brown  hand, 
while  she  watched  for  the  coming  of  the  herd. 

Luck  looked  at  her,  silhouetted  against  the  sky. 
He  had  no  scene  written  in  his  script  to  match  the 
picture  she  made ;  he  had  no  negative  to  waste.  But 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  211 

lie  swung  his  camera  around  and,  using  the  telephoto 
lens  he  had  adjusted  for  his  cattle  scenes,  he  called 
to  her  to  hold  that  pose,  and  indulged  his  artistic 
sense  in  a  ten-or-twelve  foot  scene  which  showed 
Annie-Many-Ponies  wholly  absorbed  in  gazing  upon 
farther  bleakness. 

Annie-Many-Ponies  was  so  keenly  conscious  of  her 
duty  to  the  camera  that  she  dared  not  break  her  pose, 
even  to  give  the  signal,  until  he  had  yelled,  "  All 
right,  Annie !  "  and  swung  the  camera  back  with  its 
recording  eye  fixed  upon  that  narrow  depression  be- 
tween two  blunt  ears  of  hilltop,  through  which  the 
herd  was  to  be  sent  down  to  the  ridge  and  on  past  the 
camera  to  the  flat,  where  other  scenes  were  to  be 
taken  later  on,  when  the  cattle  were  hungry  enough 
to  browse  miserably  upon  the  bosquet  of  young  cot- 
ton woods. 

"  Cows  come !  "  she  called  out,  because  Luck  had 

his  back  to  her  at  the  moment  and  did  not  see  the 

» 

wave  of  hand  she  had  been  told  to  give  him. 

Luck,  squinting  into  the  view-finder,  caught  the 
swaying  vanguard  of  the  herd  and  swore.  He  had 
meant  to  "  pam.  bleak  mesa  "  for  half  a  minute  be- 
fore those  swaying  heads  and  horns  appeared  over  the 
brow  of  the  ridge.  Now,  even  though  he  began  to 


212 

turn  the  crank  the  instant  he  glimpsed  them,  he 
would  not  have  quite  the  effect  which  he  had  meant 
to  have.  He  would  be  compelled  to  make  two  scenes 
of  it,  and  pam.  his  bleak  mesa  afterwards  and  trust  to 
a  "  cut-in  scene  "  to  cover  the  break.  He  did  not 
trust  Bill  Holmes  to  turn  the  crank  on  that  slow, 
plodding  march  of  misery.  With  his  diaphragm  of 
the  camera  wide  open  to  get  all  the  light  possible, 
because  the  air  was  filled  with  falling  snow,  he  fol- 
lowed the  herd,  as  it  wound  snakelike  down  the 
easiest  descents,  making  for  the  more  sheltered  small 
canyons  that  opened  out  upon  the  flat  "  Cattle 
drifting  before  the  wind,"  read  the  script;  and  now 
Luck  saw  them  coming,  their  snow-whitened  backs 
humped  to  the  driving  storm,  heads  lowered  and 
swaying  weakly  from  side  to  side  with  the  shambling 
motion  of  their  feet.  They  were  drifting  before  the 
wind,  just  as  he  had  planned  that  they  should  do. 
That  they  shuffled  wearily  down  that  hill  with  poor 
cows  and  unweaned  calves  straggling  miserably  be- 
hind the  main  body  in  "  the  drag  herd,"  proved  how 
well  the  boys  had  done  the  work  which  he  had  sent 
them  out  at  daylight  to  do. 

The  boys  had  gone  out,  under  the  leadership  of 
Applehead,  who  knew  that  range  as  he  knew  his  own 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  213 

dooryard,  just  when  daylight  began  to  break  coldly 
upon  the  storm  that  had  come  with  the  sunset.  Luck 
had  already  ridden  out  with  them  and  had  chosen 
his  location  for  the  blizzard  scenes. 

He  had  gone  with  them  over  every  foot  of  that 
drive,  and  had  told  them  just  where  the  main  body  of 
riders  was  to  fall  back  behind  the  ridge  that  would 
hide -them  from  the  camera,  leaving  Andy  Green  and 
the  Native  Son  —  since  these  were  the  two  whom  he 
always  visualized  in  the  scene  —  to  come  on  alone  in 
the  wake  of  the  herd.  Under  the  leadership  of  old 
Applehead,  they  had  combed  every  draw  that 
sheltered  so  much  as  a  lone  cow  and  calf. 

Luck  had  told  them  to  bring  in  every  hoof  they 
could  spot  and  get  over  that  ridge  by  ten  o'clock.  He 
had  a  nervous  dread  of  the  storm  breaking  before 
noon,  and  his  heart  was  set  on  getting  that  never-to- 
be-successfully-faked  blizzard  scene.  Eealism  ruled 
him  absolutely,  now  that  he  was  actually  producing 
some  of  the  big  scenes  of  this  picture.  He  had  told 
them  just  where  to  watch  for  Annie-Many-Ponies 
and  the  flag  she  would  wave, —  a  black  flag,  so  that 
the  boys  could  not  fail  to  see  it  in  the  vague  white- 
ness of  the  storm.  He  had  located  the  jutting  ledge 
behind  which  Happy  Jack  was  to  sneak,  that  he 


214        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

might  watch  for  the  signal  as  an  extra  precaution 
against  an  unseasonable  appearance  of  the  two  riders 
over  the  ridge. 

When  the  herd  straggled  down  in  what  seemed  an 
endless  stream  of  storm-driven  animals,  Luck  knew 
that  the  boys  had  done  their  work  well.  He  knew 
cattle  as  he  knew  pictures;  he  knew  that  a  full  two 
thousand  came  over  that  ridge  through  a  shallow  pass 
he  had  chosen.  " '  Every  hoof '  is  right,"  he  re- 
marked to  Bill  Holmes  with  a  dry  approval.  "  I'd 
hate  to  go  hunting  meat  where  that  bunch  was 
gathered  from.  Looks  like  they'd  combed  the  country 
for  fifty  miles  around."  He  sent  a  quick  glance  to 
the  pinnacle  where  Annie-Many-Ponies  stood  waiting 
to  give  the  signal.  He  wished  that  she  had  realized 
the  importance  of  these  cattle  scenes  keenly  enough 
to  have  given  him  the  signal  at  the  cost  of  breaking 
her  pose.  But  he  had  only  himself  to  blame.  He 
should  not  have  taken  the  risk,  even  though  he  had 
believed  that  the  cattle  would  not  arrive  for  another 
half  hour.  He  should  have  been  ready ;  he  had  told 
the  boys  to  send  them  right  over  the  ridge  when  they 
came  up  to  it,  because  he  wanted  to  preserve  un- 
broken that  indescribable  atmosphere  of  a  long,  weary 
journey. 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  215 

Still  they  came;  a  good  twenty-five  hundred,  he 
was  ready  to  wager,  when  the  last  few  stragglers,  so 
weak  that  they  wobbled  when  they  hesitated  before 
descending  a  particularly  steep  place,  came  down  the 
slope.  It  surely  did  eat  up  film  to  take  the  full 
magnitude  of  that  march,  but  Luck  turned  and  turned 
and  gloated  in  the  bigness  of  it  all. 

"  All  right,  Annie,"  he  called  out  when  he  had 
taken  the  last  of  the  herd  as  they  filed  out  of  sight 
into  the  narrow  gully  that  would  lead  them  to  the 
flat  half  a  mile  below,  where  he  meant  to  get  other 
scenes.  "  Wave  flag  now  for  boys  to  come !  " 

Annie-Many-Ponies  lifted  high  the  black  flag  and 
waved  it  in  slow,  sweeping  half  circles  above  her 
head.  "  Boys,  come,"  she  called,  a  moment  after. 

Luck,  still  not  trusting  the  camera  to  Bill  Holmes, 
swung  back  slowly  to  the  pass  and  made  a  panorama 
of  the  desolate  hillside  and  the  chill,  forbidding 
mountains  behind.  At  the  pass  he  stopped.  "  How 
close  ? "  he  shouted  to  Annie.  "  Come  now,"  she 
called  down  to  him,  and  Luck  began  to  turn  the  crank 
again,  watching  like  a  hawk  for  the  first  bobbing 
black  specks  which  would  show  that  the  boys  were 
nearing  the  crest  of  the  ridge. 

They  came,  on  the  very  instant  that  he  would  have 


216        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

chosen  for  their  coming.  Side  by  side  they  rode, 
drooping  of  shoulders,  and  yet  with  their  bodies 
braced  backward  for  the  descent  which  at  the  top 
was  rather  steep.  "  Register  cold  —  horses  leg- 
weary  —  boys  all  in  — "  read  the  script  which  Luck 
knew  by  heart.  It  was  cold  enough,  and  the  camera 
must  have  registered  it  in  the  way  the  snow  was 
heaped  upon  their  hatbrims,  drifted  upon  their 
shoulders,  packed  in  the  wrinkles  of  their  clothing 
and  in  the  manes  and  tails  of  the  horses.  And  the 
horses  certainly  were  leg-weary;  so  weary  that  Luck 
knew  how  the  boys  must  have  ridden  to  gather  the 
cattle  and  to  put  their  mounts  in  that  condition  of 
realistic  exhaustion.  In  the  story  they  were  sup- 
posed to  have  ridden  nearly  all  night, —  the  night- 
guard  who  had  been  on  duty  when  the  storm  struck 
and  the  cattle  began  to  drift,  and  who  had  stuck  to 
their  posts  even  though  they  could  not  turn  the  herd. 
That  might  be  stretching  the  probabilities  just  a 
shade,  but  Luck  felt  that  the  effects  he  wanted  to  get 
justified  the  slight  license  he  had  used  in  his  plot. 
The  effects  were  there,  in  generous  measure.  He 
turned  the  crank  on  the  whole  of  their  descent  and 
got  them  riding  up  into  the  foreground  pinched  with 
cold,  miserable  as  men  may  be.  They  did  not  look 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  217 

at  him  —  they  dared  not  until  he  had  given  the  word 
that  the  scene  was  ended. 

"  Ride  on  past,  down  into  that  gully  where  the 
cattle  went,"  he  directed  them  sharply.  "  I'll  holler 
when  you're  outa  sight.  You  can  turn  around  and 
come  back  then;  the  scene  ends  where  your  hat- 
crowns  bob  outa  sight.  And  listen!  You're  liable 
to  lose  your  cattle  if  you  don't  spur  up  a  little,  so 
try  and  get  a  little  speed  into  them  cayuses  of 
yours !  " 

Obediently  Andy's  quirt  rose  and  descended  on  the 
flank  of  his  horse.  It  started,  broke  into  a  shuffling 
trot,  and  slowed  again  to  a  walk.  There  was  no 
speed  to  be  gotten  out  of  those  cayuses, —  which  was 
what  Luck  meant  to  show  on  the  screen;  for  this, 
you  must  know,  was  the  painting  of  one  grim  phase 
of  the  range-man's  life.  The  Native  Son  spurred 
his  horse  and  got  a  lunge  or  two  that  settled  presently 
to  the  same  plodding  walk.  Luck  pammed  them  out 
of  sight,  bethought  him  of  the  rest  of  the  boys,  and 
commanded  Annie-Many-Ponies  to  call  them  in. 

They  came,  half  frozen,  half  starved,  and  so  tired 
they  did  not  know  which  discomfort  irked  them  most. 
They  found  Luck ;  his  nose  purple  with  cold  marking 
the  footage  on  his  working  script  with  numbed 


218        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

fingers.  He  barely  glanced  at  them,  and  turned 
away  to  tell  Bill  Holmes  to  take  the  camera  on  down 
the  draw  to  where  that  huddle  of  rocks  stood  up  on 
the  hillside.  Andy  and  Miguel  came  back  and  met 
the  others  halfway. 

"  Say,  boss,  when  do  we  eat  ? "  Big  Medicine  in- 
quired anxiously.  "  By  cripes,  I'm  holler  plumb 
down  to  my  toes, —  and  them's  froze  stiff." 

"  Eat  ?  We  eat  when  we  get  these  storm  scenes 
taken,"  Luck  told  him  heartlessly.  "  I'm  afraid  it'll 
clear  up." 

"  Afraid  it'll  clear  up !  "  Pink  burrowed  his  chin 
deeper  into  his  breath-frosted  collar  and  shivered. 

"  Oh,  quit  kicking,"  the  Native  Son  advised 
ironically.  "  We're  only  living  some  of  Luck's  big 
minutes  he  used  to  tell  about." 

Luck  looked  around  at  them  and  grinned  a  little. 
"  Part  of  the  business,  boys,"  he  said.  "  Think  of 
the  picture  stuff  there  is  in  this  storm !  " 

"  Why,  sure !  "  Weary  responded  with  exaggerated 
cheerfulness.  "  I've  been  freezing  artistically  ever 
since  daylight.  Darn  me  for  leaving  my  old  sour- 
dough coat  at  home  when  I  hit  for  the  land  of  orange 
blossoms  and  singing  birds  and  sunshine." 

"  Aw,  gwan !     I  never  was  warm  a  minute  in  Los 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA 

Angeles  except  when  I  got  hot  at  the  Acme.  Mon- 
tana never  seen  the  day  it  was  as  cold  as  here.'' 

"  Come  on,  boys,  let's  get  these  dissolve  scenes  of 
cattle  perishing  in  a  blizzard.  After  that  —  hey, 
Annie!  You  come,  make  plenty  fire,  plenty  coffee. 
I  show  you  location." 

Annie  called  gently  to  the  little  dog,  and  came 
striding  down  through  the  snow  to  fall  in  docilely 
three  paces  behind  her  adored  "  brother,"  Wagalexa 
Conka  after  the  submissive  manner  of  squaws  toward 
the  human  male  in  authority  over  them. 

"  Coffee ! "  Weary  murmured  ecstatically. 
"  Plenty  fire,  plenty  coffee  —  oh,  mama !  " 

Down  in  the  flat  where  the  bushes  grew  sparsely 
along  the  tiny  arroyo  now  gone  dry,  the  herd  had 
stopped  from  sheer  exhaustion,  and  were  already 
nibbling  desultorily  upon  the  tenderest  twigs.  This 
was  what  Luck  wanted  in  his  scene,  though  the  cattle 
must  be  moved  into  the  location  he  had  chosen  where 
was  just  the  background  effect  he  wanted  to  get, 
with  the  bare  mesa  showing  in  the  far  distance. 
There  was  a  dreary  interval  of  riding  and  shouting 
and  urging  the  cattle  up  over  a  low  spur  of  the  bluff 
and  down  the  other  side,  and  the  placing  of  them  to* 
Luck's  satisfaction.  I  fear  that  more  than  one  of 


220        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

the  boys  wondered  why  that  first  bit  of  the  flat  would 
not  do,  and  why  Luck  insisted  that  they  should  bring 
the  herd  to  one  particular  point  and  no  other,  and 
why  they  must  wear  out  their  horses  and  themselves 
just  fussing  around  among  the  cattle,  scattering  one 
bunch,  bringing  others  closer  together,  and  driving 
certain  animals  up  to  foreground,  when  they  very 
much  objected  to  going  there. 

Luck  had  concealed  his  camera  behind  the  rocks 
so  that  he  could  get  a  "  close  shot "  without  register- 
ing the  fact  that  the  cattle  were  watching  him.  His 
commands  to  "  Edge  that  black  steer  over  about  even 
with  that  white  bank !  "  and  later,  "  Put  that  cow 
and  calf  out  this  way  and  drive  the  others  back  a 
little,  so  she  will  have  the  immediate  foreground  to 
herself,"  were  easier  given  than  obeyed.  The  cow  and 
calf,  for  instance,  were  much  inclined  to  shamble 
back  with  the  others,  and  did  not  show  any  apprecia- 
tion for  the  foreground,  wherein  they  were  vastly  un- 
like any  other  "  extras  "  ever  brought  before  a  cam- 
jera.  Still,  in  spite  of  all  these  drawbacks,  the  mo- 
ment arrived  when  Luck  began  to  turn  the  crank 
with  his  eyes  keen  for  every  detail  of  that  bunch  of 
forlorn,  hungry,  range  cattle  huddled  under  the  scant 
shelter  of  a  ten-foot  bank,  while  the  snows  fell  stead- 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  221 

ily  in  great  flakes  which  Luck  knew  would  give  a 
grand  storm-effect  on  the  screen.  The  Happy  Fam- 
ily, free  for  the  moment,  crowded  close  to  the  fire 
of  dead  sagebrush  which  Annie-Many-Ponies  had1 
lighted  in  the  lee  of  a  high  rock,  and  sniffed  longingly 
at  the  smell  which  came  steaming  up  from  the  dented 
two-gallon  coffee-boiler  blackened  from  many  a 
camp  fire. 

Luck  was  turning  the  crank  and  watching  his 
"  foreground  stuff  "  so  that  he  did  not  at  first  see  the 
two  riders  who  came  loping  down  the  hill  which  he 
was  using  for  background.  Whether  he  would  or 
no,  he  had  got  them  in  several  feet  of  good  scene  be- 
fore he  saw  them  and  stopped  his  camera.  He 
shouted,  but  they  came  on  headlong,  slipping  and 
sliding  in  the  loose  snow.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  they  were  headed  straight  for  the  group  and  felt 
that  their  business  was  urgent,  so  Luck  stepped  out 
from  behind  the  rocks  and  started  toward  them, 
motioning  for  them  to  keep  out,  away  from  the 
cattle. 

"  Better  let  me  git  in  the  lead  right  now,"  Apple- 
head  advised  hastily,  and  jumped  in  front  of  Luck 
as  the  two  came  lunging  up.  "  I  know  these  here 
Jiombres,  to  my  sorrer,  too,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  " 


222        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

But  Luck,  feeling  that  his  leadership  might  as  well 

be  established  then  as  any  time,  pushed  the  old  man 

back. 

>     "  What  you  want  ?  "  he  demanded  of  the  foremost 

'who  rode  up.     "  Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  you  to  keep 

out  around  the  cattle  ?  " 

"  Adonde  va  V  con  mi  vaca?"  snapped  the  first 
rider  in  high-keyed  Spanish. 

"  My  brother  say  where  you  go  with  our  cattle  ?  " 
interrupted  the  other  one,  evidently  proud  of  his 
English. 

"  I  know  what  he  said,"  Luck  snubbed  this  one 
bluntly.  "  I  don't  know  that  they  are  your  cattle. 
I  don't  care.  We're  using  them  to  make  motion  pic- 
tures. Get  outa  the  way  so  we  can  go  on  with  our 
work."  Had  he  not  spoiled  several  feet  of  film  be- 
cause of  their  coming  he  might  have  been  more  in- 
clined to  placate  them.  As  it  was,  he  did  not  wel- 
come their  interference,  he  did  not  like  their  looks, 
i  and  their  tones  were  to  his  temper  as  tow  would  be 
'to  a  fire.  Their  half  Mexican,  half  American  dress 
irritated  him;  the  interruption  exasperated  him. 
He  was  hungry  and  cold  and  keyed  to  a  high  nervous 
tension  in  his  anxiety  to  make  the  most  of  his  present 
big  opportunity ;  he  knew  too  well  that  he  might  not 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  223 

have  another  chance  all  winter,  with  the  snow  fall- 
ing as  if  under  his  direction. 

"  Get  over  there  outa  range  of  the  camera !  "  he 
commanded  them  sharply,  "  then  you  can  spout  Mex. 
till  you're  black  in  the  face,  for  all  I  care.  I'm 
busy."  To  make  himself  absolutely  understood  he 
repeated  the  gist  of  his  remarks  in  Spanish  before  he 
turned  his  back  on  them  to  finish  his  interrupted 
scene. 

Whereupon  one  swore  in  Spanish  and  the  other  in 
English,  and  they  both  declared  that  they  would  take 
their  cattle  right  now,  and  reined  their  horses  toward 
the  shifting  herd. 

"  Hold  on  thar,  Ramone  Chavez !  "  shouted  Apple- 
head,  striding  forward.  "  Didn't  you  hear  the  boss 
tell  ye  to  git  outa  the  way,  both  of  yuh  ?  Yuh  bet- 
ter do  it,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh,  'cause  if  yuh  don't, 
they's  goin'  to  be  right  smart  of  a  runction  around 
here !  A  good  big  share  uh  them  thar  cattle  belongs 
to  me.  Don't  ye  go  messin'  in  there' amongst  'em; 
you  jest  ride  back  outa  the  way  uh  that  thar  camery. 
Git!" 

At  Applehead's  command  they  "  got,"  at  least  as 
far  as  the  camp  fire,  where  the  bright  shawl  of  Annie- 
Many-Ponies  caught  and  held  their  interest  Annie- 


224        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Many-Ponies,  being  a  woman  who  had  both  youth 
and  beauty  and  sensed  instinctively  the  value  of  both, 
sent  a  slant-eyed  glance  and  a  half  smile  toward  Ra- 
Jmone,  who  possessed  more  good  looks  and  more  Eng- 
lish than  his  brother.  The  Happy  Family  eyed 
them  with  a  tolerant  indifference  and  moved  aside 
with  reluctant  hospitality  when  Ramone  dismounted 
shiveringly  and  came  forward  to  warm  his  fingers 
over  the  blaze. 

"  She's  cold  day,  you  bet,"  Ramone  remarked  in- 
gratiatingly. 

"  She  ain't  what  you  could  call  hot,"  Big  Medi- 
cine conceded  drily,  since  no  one  else  showed  any 
disposition  to  reply. 

"  We  don't  get  much  snow  like  this.  You  live  in 
Albuquerque,  perhaps  ? " 

There  was  really  no  excuse  for  snubbing  these  two, 
who  had  been  well  within  their  rights  in  making  an 
investigation  of  this  unheralded  and  unauthorized 
gathering  of  all  the  cattle  on  this  range.  Andy  told 
Ramone  where  they  were  staying  and  where  they 
came  from,  and  let  it  go  at  that.  The  less  American- 
ized brother  dismounted  and  joined  the  group  with 
a  nod  of  greeting. 

"My  brother  Tomas,"  announced  Ramone,  with 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  225 

a  flash  of  white  teeth,  his  eyes  shifting  unobtru- 
sively toward  Annie-Many-Ponies,  who  wore  a  se- 
cret, half -smiling  air  of  provocative  interest  in  him. 
"  Not  spik  much  English,  my  brother.  Always  stay 
too  much  at  home.  Me,  I  travel  all  over  —  Denver, 
Los  Angeles,  San  Francisco.  I  ride  in  all  contests 
—  Pueblo,  San  Antonio  —  all  over.  Tomas,  he  go 
not  so  often.  His  head,  all  for  business  —  making 
money  —  get  rich  some  day.  Me,  I  spend.  My 
hand  wide  open  always.  Money  slip  fast." 

"  There's  plenty  of  us  marked  that  way,"  Weary 
made  good-natured  comment,  turning  so  that  his  back 
might  feel  the  heat  of  the  fire. 

"  Shunka  Chistala !  "  murmured  Annie-Many" 
Ponies  in  her  soft  contralto  to  the  little  black  dog, 
and  moved  away  to  the  mountain  wagon,  with  the  dog 
following  close  to  her  moccasined  heels. 

Eamone  looked  after  her  with  frank  surprise  at 
the  strange  words.  "  Not  Spanish,  then  ?  "  he  ven- 
tured. 

"  Indian,"  the  Native  Son  explained  briefly,  and 
added,  perhaps  for  reasons  of  his  own,  "  Sioux 
squaw." 

Kamone  very  wisely  let  his  curiosity  rest  there. 
He  had  a  good  excuse,  for  Luck,  having  finished  work 


226        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

for  the  time  being,  came  tramping  over  to  the  fire. 
At  him  Ramone  glanced  apologetically. 

"  We  borrow  comfort  from  your  fire,  senor"  he 
said  indifferently.  "  She's  bad  day  for  riding." 

Luck  nodded,  already  ashamed  of  having  lost  his ' 
temper,  yet  not  at  the  point  of  yielding  openly  to  any 
overtures  for  peace.  "  Soon  as  we  eat,"  he  said  to 
Weary  and  those  others  who  stood  nearest,  "  I'll  have 
you  cut  out  that  poor  cow  and  calf  and  drive  'em 
down  the  flat  here,  so  I  can  get  that  other  scene  I  was 
telling  you  about." 

"  Wagalexa  Conka,  here  is  plenty  hot  coffee/* 
came  a  soft  voice  at  his  elbow,  and  Luck  turned  with 
a  smile  to  take  the  steaming  cup  from  the  hand  of 
Annie-Many-Ponies. 

The  Native  Son  poured  a  cup  and  offered  it  to 
Tomas  Chavez.  "  Quire  cafe?  "  he  asked. 

"Si,  senor;  Gracias."  Tomas  smiled,  and  took 
the  cup  and  bowed.  Annie-Many-Ponies  herself, 
with  a  sidelong  glance  at  Luck  to  see  if  she  might/ 
dare,  carried  the  biggest  cup  of  coffee  to  Ramone, 
and  smiled  demurely  when  he  took  it  and  looked  into 
her  eyes  and  thanked  her. 

In  this  fashion  did  the  social  sky  clear,  even  though 
the  snow  continued  to  drive  against  those  who  broke 


PAM.  BLEAK  MESA  227 

bread  together  out  there  in  the  dreary  wastes,  with 
the  snow  halfway  to  their  knees.  The  Native  Son, 
being  half  Spanish  and  knowing  well  the  language  of 
his  father,  talked  a  little  with  Tomas.  Eamone 
made  himself  friendly  with  any  one  who  would  give 
him  any  attention.  But  Applehead  scowled  over  his 
boiled-beef  sandwich  and  his  coffee,  and  kept  his 
back  turned  upon  the  Chavez  brothers,  and  would  not 
talk  at  all.  He  eyed  them  sourly  when  they  still 
loitered  after  the  meal  was  over  and  the  remains 
packed  away  in  the  box  by  Annie-Many-Ponies,  and 
Luck  had  gone  to  work  again  with  Bill  Holmes  at  his 
heels  and  the  boys  helping  to  place  the  cattle  to 
Luck's  liking. 

When  the  Chavez  brothers  finally  did  show  symp- 
toms of  intending  to  leave,  Luck  beckoned  to  Tomas, 
whom  he  judged  to  be  the  leader.  "  Here,"  he  said 
in  Spanish,  when  Tomas  had  come  close  to  him.  "  I 
will  pay  you  for  using  your  cattle.  When  I  am 
through,  my  boys  will  drive  them  back  to  the  mesa 
!  again.  For  my  picture  I  may  need  them  again, 
senor.  I  promise  you  they  will  not  be  harmed." 
And  he  charged  in  his  expense  book  the  sum,  "  to  use 
of  locations." 

"  Gracias"  said  Tomas,  and  took  the  five  dollars 


228        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

which  Luck  could  ill  afford  to  give,  but  which  he  felt 
would  smooth  materially  the  trail  to  their  future 
work.  Cattle  he  must  have  for  his  picture;  cattle 
he  would  have  at  any  cost, —  but  it  would  be  well  to 
have  them  with  the  consent  of  their  owners.  So  the 
Chavez  brothers  rode  away  with  smiles  for  their 
neighbors  instead  of  threats,  and  with  five  dollars 
which  had  come  to  them  like  a  gift. 

"  Yuh  might  better  uh  kicked  'em  outa  here  with- 
out no  softsoapin'  about  it,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  " 
Applehead  grumbled  when  they  were  out  of  ear- 
shot. "  You  may  know  your  business  better'n  what 
I  do,  but  by  thunder  I  wouldn't  uh  give  'em  no  five 
dollars  —  ner  five  cents.  'S  like  feedin'  a  stray  dog; 
yuh  won't  never  git  rid  of  'em  now.  They'll  be 
hangin'  around  under  yer  feet  — " 

"At  that,  I  might  have  use  for  them,"  Luck  re- 
torted unmoved.  "  They're  fine  types." 

"  Types !  "  old  Applehead  exploded  indignantly. 
"  Types !  They're  sneak-thieves  and  cutthroats  't  I 
wouldn't  trust  fur's  I  could  throw  a  bull  by  the  tail. 
That's  what  they  be.  Types, —  my  granny !  " 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN" 

"  PLUMB    SPOJXEI^    D'    TTJH    MEAN  ?  " 

LUCK  came  out  of  the  dark  room  with,  the  still, 
frozen  look  of  a  trouble  that  has  gone  too  deep 
for  words.  Ann  ie-Many-Ponies  eyed  him  aslant 
and  straightway  placed  the  hottest,  juiciest  piece  of 
steak  on  his  plate,  and  poured  his  coffee  even  before 
she  poured  for  old  Dave  Wiswell,  whom  she  favored 
as  being  an  old  acquaintance  of  the  Pine  Ridge  coun- 
try. 

Once  when  her  father,  old  chief  Big  Turkey,  had 
broken  his  leg  and  refused  to  have  a  doctor  attend 
him,  and  had  said  that  he  would  die  if  his  "  son  " 
did  not  make  his  leg  well,  Luck  had  looked  as  he 
looked  now.  Still,  he  had  set  chief  Big  Turkey's 
leg  so  well  that  it  grew  straight  and  strong  again. 
Annie-Many-Ponies  might  be  primitive  as  to  her 
nature  and  untutored  as  to  her  mind,  but  she  could 
read  the  face  of  her  brother  Wagalexa  Conka  swiftly 
and  surely.  Something  was  very  bad  in  his  heart. 
Annie-Many-Ponies  searched  her  soul  for  guilt,  re- 


230        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

membered  the  smile  she  had  given  to  Ramone  Chavez 
whom  Wagalexa  Conka  did  not  like,  and  immediately 
she  became  humbled  before  her  chief. 

Shunka  Chistala  —  which  is  Sioux  for  little  dog 
—  she  banished  into  the  cold,  and  hardened  her  heart 
against  his  whining.  It  is  true  that  Wagalexa 
Conka  had  not  forbidden  her  to  have  the  little  dog 
in  the  house,  but  in  his  displeasure  he  might  make 
the  dog  an  excuse  for  scolding  her  and  for  taking  the 
part  of  Rosemary,  who  hated  dogs  in  the  house,  and 
who  was  trying,  by  every  ingratiating  means  known 
to  woman,  to  make  a  friend  of  Compadre.  Rose- 
mary was  a  white  woman  and  the  wife  of  Wagalexa 
Conka's  friend;  Annie-Many-Ponies  was  an  Indian 
girl,  not  even  of  the  same  race  as  her  brother  Waga- 
lexa Conka.  And  although  her  vanity  might  lead 
her  to  believe  herself  and  her  smile  the  cause  of 
Luck's  mask-like  displeasure,  she  had  no  delusions  as 
to  which  side  he  would  take  in  an  argument  between 
herself  and  Shunka  Chistala  on  the  one  side/ and 
Rosemary  and  Compadre  on  the  other;  and  in  the 
back  of  her  mind  lived  always  the  fear  that  Waga- 
lexa Conka  might  refuse  to  let  her  stay  and  work 
for  him  in  pictures. 

Therefore   Annie-Many-Ponies   crouched   humbly 


PLUMB  SPOILED  231 

before  the  rock  fireplace,  until  Luck  missed  her  at 
the  table  and  told  her  to  come  and  eat;  she  came  as 
comes  a  dog  who  has  been  beaten,  and  slid  into  her 
place  as  noiselessly  as  a  shadow, —  humility  being  the 
heritage  of  her  sex  and  race. 

No  one  talked  at  all.  Even  Rosemary  seemed  de- 
pressed and  made  no  attempt  to  stir  the  Happy  Fam- 
ily to  their  wonted  cheerfulness.  They  were  worn 
out  from  their  long  day  that  had  been  filled  with  real 
hardships  as  well  as  work.  In  the  general  silence, 
Luck's  deeper  gloom  seemed  consistent  and  only  to  be 
expected;  for  hard  as  the  others  had  worked,  he 
had  worked  harder.  His  had  been  the  directing 
brain;  his  hand  had  turned  the  camera  crank,  lest 
Bill  Holmes,  not  yet  familiar  with  his  duties,  might 
fail  where  failure  would  be  disaster.  He  had  en- 
dured the  cold  and  the  storm,  tramping  back  and 
forth  in  the  snow,  planning,  directing,  doing  literally 
the  work  of  two  men.  Annie-Many-Ponies  alone 
knew  that  exhaustion  never  brought  just  that  look 
into  Luck's  face.  Annie-Many-Ponies  knew  that 
something  was  very  bad  in  Luck's  heart.  She  knew, 
and  she  trembled  while  she  ate  with  a  precise  atten- 
tion to  her  table  manners  lest  he  chide  her  openly 
before  them  all. 


232        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  How  long  do  you  think  this  storm  will  last, 
Applehead  ? "  Luck  asked,  when  he  had  walked 
heavily  over  to  the  fireplace  for  his  smoke,  and  had 
drawn  a  match  sharply  along  the  rough  face  of  a 
rock. 

"We-ell,  she's  showin*  some  signs  uh  clear-in'  up 
to-night,"  Applehead  stated  with  careful  judgment, 
because  he  felt  that  Luck's  question  had  much  to  do 
with  Luck's  plans,  and  was  not  a  mere  conversational 
bait  "  Wind,  she's  shifting  er  was,  when  I  come 
in  to  supper.  She  shore  come  down  like  all  git-out 
ever  since  she  started,  and  I  calc'late  she's  about 
stormed  out.  I  look  fer  sun  all  day  to-morrer,  boy." 
This  last  in  a  tone  of  such  manifest  encouragement 
that  Luck  snorted.  (Back  by  the  table  in  the 
kitchen,  Annie-Many-Ponies  paused  in  her  piling  of 
plates  and  listened  breathlessly.  She  knew  that  par- 
ticular sound.  Wagalexa  Conka  would  presently  re- 
veal what  was  bad  in  his  heart) 

"  That  would  be  my  luck,  all  right,"  her  chief 
stated  pessimistically. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  sun,  now?"  Big 
Medicine  boomed  reprovingly.  "  Comin*  in,  you 
said  you  had  your  blizzard  stuff,  and  now  if  the  sun'd 
jest  come  out,  by  cripes,  you'd  be  singin*  songs  uh 


PLUMB  SPOILED  233 

thanksgivin' — er  words  to  that  effect.     Honest  to 
gran'ma,  there's  folks  that'd  kick  if  — " 

"  But   I   haven't  got  my  blizzard   stuff,"   Luck 
stated,  harshly  because  of  the  effort  to  speak  at  all./ 
"All  that  negative  I  took  to-day  is  chuck  full  of 
'  static.'  " 

Annie-Many-Ponies,  out  in  the  kitchen,  dropped  a 
granite-iron  plate,  but  the  others  merely  stared  at 
Luck  uncomprehendingly. 

"  Well,  say,  by  cripes !  What's  statics  ? "  de- 
manded Big  Medicine  pugnaciously,  as  though  he 
meant  to  ward  off  from  his  mind  the  realization  of 
some  new  misfortune. 

Luck's  lips  twitched  in  the  faint  impulse  toward  a 
smile  that  would  not  come.  "  Statics,"  he  explained, 
"  is  that  branch  of  mechanics  that  relates  to  bodies 
held  at  rest  by  the  forces  acting  on  them.  In  other 
words,  it  is  electricity  in  a  stationary  charge,  the 
condition  being  produced  by  friction  or  induction. 
In  other  words  — "  » 

"  In  other  words/'  Big  Medicine  supplied  glumly, 
"  I  can  shut  up  and  mind  my  own  business.  I  get 
yuh,  all  right !  " 

"Nothing  like  that,  Bud,"  Luck  corrected  more 
amiably,  warmed  a  little  by  the  sympathy  he  knew 


234        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

would  follow  close  upon  the  heels  of  understanding. 
"  Static  is  a  technical  word  used  a  good  deal  in  mo- 
tion-picture photography.  In  this  case  it  was  caused, 
I  think,  by  the  difference  of  temperature  in  the  metal 
parts  of  the  camera  and  negative,  and  the  weather 
outside  the  camera  box.  I've  been  keeping  it  here 
in  the  house  where  it's  warm,  and  I  took  it  out  into 
the  cold  and  started  work  —  sabe?  And  the  grind- 
ing of  the  bearings,  and  the  action  of  the  film  on  the 
race  plate,  generated  static  electricity  in  tiny  flashes 
which  lighted  up  the  interior  of  the  camera  and 
light-exposed  the  negative,  as  it  was  passing  from 
one  magazine  to  another.  When  it's  developed,  these 
flashes  show  up  in  contrasty  lights,  like  tiny  grape 
vines;  I  can  show  you  that  part;  I've  got  about  a 
mile  of  it,  more  or  less,  there  in  the  dark  room." 

"  Plumb  spoiled,  d'  yuh  mean  ? "  Big  Medicine 
asked,  his  voice  hushed  before  the  catastrophe. 

"  Plumb  spoiled."  Luck  threw  his  cigarette  stub 
viciously  into  the  blaze.  "  All  that  drifting  herd,  all 
that  panoram  of  Andy  and  Miguel  —  all  —  every- 
thing I  took  to-day,  with  the  exception  of  those  last 
scenes  with  the  cow  and  calf.  The  one  where  the 
cow  is  down  and  the  snow  drifting  over  her,  and  the 
calf  huddled  there  by  the  carcass, —  that's  dandy. 


PLUMB  SPOILED  235 

Camera  and  negative  were  cold  as  the  outside  air  by 
that  time.  That  one  scene  will  stand  out  big;  it's 
got  an  awful  big  punch,  provided  I  had  the  stuff  lead- 
ing up  to  it,  which  I  haven't  got." 

"  Hell !  "  said  Andy  softly,  voicing  the  dismay  of 
them  all. 

Presently  old  Applehead  unlimbered  himself  from 
his  chair  and  went  out  into  the  cold  and  darkness. 
When  he  came  back,  nibbing  his  knuckles  for 
warmth,  he  stood  before  the  fireplace  and  ruminated 
dispiritedly  before  he  spoke. 

"  Ain't  ary  hope  of  it  blizzardin'  to-morrer,  boy," 
he  broke  his  silence  reluctantly,  "  'less  the  wind 
changes,  which  she  don't  act  to  me  like  she's  got  ary 
notion  of  doin';  she's  shore  goin'  to  blind  ye  with! 
sun  to-morrer,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh." 

"  Well,  there  won't  be  any  more  static  in  my  film," 
Luck  declared  with  sudden  decision,  and  carried  his 
camera  outside.  When  he  returned  Applehead  eyed 
him  solicitously. 

"  We-ell,  this  ain't  but  the  middle  uh  November, ' 
yuh  want  to  recollect,"  he  said.  "We're  liable  to 
have  purtier  storms  'n  what  this  here  one  was,  'fore 
winter's  over.  Cattle'll  be  in  worse  condition,  too, 
—  ribs  stickin'  out  so'st  you  kin  count  'em  a  mile  off 


236        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

*n'  more.  Way  winter's  startin'  in,  wouldn't  s'prise 
me  a  mite  if  we  had  storms  all  through  till  spring 
opens  up." 

Luck  knew  the  old  man  was  trying  in  his  crude 
way  to  encourage  him,  but  he  made  no  reply,  and 
Applehead  relapsed  into  drowsy  meditation  over  his 
pipe.  The  boys,  yawning  sleepily,  trailed  off  to  bed 
in  the  Ketch-all  cabin.  Rosemary  and  Annie-Many- 
Ponies,  having  finished  washing  the  dishes  and  tidy- 
ing the  kitchen,  came  through  the  room  on  their  way 
to  bed,  Annie-Many-Ponies  cunningly  hiding  the  lit- 
tle black  dog  behind  her  skirts.  Rosemary  frowned 
at  the  two  and  went  to  the  door  and  called  Com- 
padre ;  but  the  blue  cat,  scenting  a  dog  in  the  house, 
meowed  his  regrets  and  would  not  come. 

"  I'll  take  'im  down  with  me,"  said  Applehead, 
rising  stiffly.  "  He  cain't  take  no  comfort  in  the 
house  no  more  —  not  till  he  spunks  up  and  licks  that 
thar  dawg  a  time  er  two.  Comin',  Luck  ?  "  he  added, 
waiting  at  the  door.  But  luck  was  staring  into  the 
'fire  and  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  so  Applehead  went 
off  alone  to  where  the  Happy  Family  were  already 
creeping  thankfully  into  their  hard  bunks. 

The  house  grew  still ;  so  still  that  Luck  could  hear 
the  wind  whispering  in  the  chimney,  coming  from 


PLUMB  SPOILED  237 

the  quarter  which  meant  clearing  weather.  He 
sighed,  flung  more  wood  on  the  coals  to  drive  back 
the  chill  of  the  night,  and  got  out  his  scenario  and 
some  sheets  of  blank  paper  and  a  pencil.  He  had 
sold  his  typewriter  when  he  was  raising  money  for 
thia  trip,  and  he  was  inclined  now  to  regret  it.  But 
he  sharpened  the  pencil,  laid  a  large-surfaced 
"  movie "  magazine  across  his  knees,  and  prepared 
to  revise  his  scenario  to  meet  his  present  limita- 
tions. 

With  a  good  thousand  feet  of  film  spoiled  through 
no  real  fault  of  his  own,  and  with  the  expenses  he 
knew  he  must  meet  looming  inexorably  before  him, 
he  simply  could  not  afford  a  leading  woman.  There- 
fore, he  must  change  his  story,  making  it  a  "  char- 
acter "  lead  instead  of  the  conventional  hero  and 
heroine  theme.  Chance  —  he  called  it  luck  —  had 
sent  him  Annie-Many-Ponies,  who  "  Wants  no  mon- 
ies." He  must  change  his  story  so  that  she  would 
fit  into  it  as  the  necessary  feminine  element,  but  he 
was  discouraged  enough  that  night  to  tell  himself 
that,  just  as  he  had  her  placed  and  working  properly, 
the  Indian  Agent  or  her  father,  old  Big  Turkey, 
would  probably  demand  her  immediate  return.  "In 
his  despondent  mood  he  had  no  faith  in  his  standing 


with  the  Indians  or  in  the  letter  he  had  written  to 
the  Agent.  His  "one  best  bet,"  as  he  put  it,  was 
to  make  her  scenes  as  soon  as  possible,  before  they  had 
time  to  reach  him  with  a  letter;  therefore  he  must 
reconstruct  his  scenario  immediately,  so  that  he 
could  get  to  work  in  the  morning,  whatever  the 
weather. 

He  read  the  script  through  from  beginning  to  end, 
and  his  heart  went  heavy  in  his  chest.  He  did  not 
want  to  change  one  scene  of  that  Big  Picture.  Just 
as  it  stood  it  seemed  to  him  perfect  in  its  way.  It 
had  the  bigness  of  the  West  when  the  West  was  young. 
It  had  the  red  blood  of  courage,  the  strength  of 
achievement,  the  sweetness  of  a  great  love.  It  was, 
in  short,  Luck's  biggest,  best  work.  Still,  without  a 
woman  to  play  that  lead  — 

Luck  sighed  and  dampened  his  pencil  on  his  tongue 
and  drew  a  heavy  line  through  the  scene  where 
"  Marian  "  first  appeared  in  the  story.  It  hurt  him 
like  drawing  a  hot  wire  across  his  hand.  It  was  his 
first  real  compromise,  his  first  step  around  an  ob- 
stacle in  his  path  rather  than  his  usual  bold  jump 
over  it.  He  looked  at  the  pencil  mark  and  considered 
whether  he  could  not  send  for  a  girl  young  in  the  pro- 
fession, who  would  be  satisfied  with  her  transporta- 


PLUMB  SPOILED  239 

tion  and  thirty  or  forty  dollars  a  week  while  she 
stayed.  He  could  make  all  her  scenes  and  send  her 
back.  But  a  little  mental  arithmetic,  coupled  with 
the  cold  fact  that  he  did  not  know  of  any  young 
woman  who  was  capable  of  doing  the  work  he  re- 
quired and  would  yet  be  satisfied  with  a  small  salary, 
killed  that  newborn  hope.  He  drew  a  line  through 
the  next  scene  where  the  girl  appeared. 

When  he  had  quite  blotted  the  girl  from  his  story, 
he  was  appalled  at  the  gap  he  must  fill  in  the  conti- 
nuity and  in  the  theme.  He  had  left  old  Dave  Wis- 
well,  his  dried  little  cattleman,  a  childless  old  man  — 
or  else  a  "  squaw  "  man  whose  squaw  has,  presum- 
ably, died  before  the  story  began.  Somehow  he  could 
not  "  see  "  his  cattleman  as  one  who  would  set  aside 
the  barrier  of  race  and  take  a  squaw  for  his  wife. 
He  could  not  see  Annie-Many-Ponies  as  anything 
'save  what  she  was  —  a  beautiful  young  savage  with 
an  odd  adornment  of  civilized  speech  and  some  of  the 
civilized  customs,  it  is  true,  but  a  savage  for  all  that. 
He  did  not  want  to  spoil  her  by  portraying  her  as  a 
half-caste  in  his  picture. 

He  must  make  his  story  a  man's  story,  with  the  full 
interest  centered  about  the  man's  hopes,  his  tempta- 
tions, his  achievements.  The  woman  —  Annie,  as  he 


saw  the  woman  now  —  must  be  of  secondary  interest 
He  laid  his  head  against  the  chair  back  in  his  favorite 
attitude  for  uninterrupted  thought,  and  stared  into 
the  fire.  In  this  way  he  had  stared  out  into  the  night 
of  the  Dakota  prairie ;  at  first  brooding  in  discontent 
because  things  were  not  as  he  would  have  them,  then 
drifting  into  dreams  of  what  he  would  like;  then 
weaving  his  dreams  together  and  creating  a  something 
complete  in  itself.  So  had  he  created  his  Big  Pic- 
ture,—  the  picture  which  was  already  beginning  to 
live  in  the  narrow  strips  of  negative.  A  few  hundred 
feet  of  that  negative  were  even  dry  and  filed  away 
ready  for  cutting ;  unimportant  scenes,  to  be  sure,  with 
all  of  his  "  big  stuff  "  yet  to  be  produced.  His  mind 
went  methodically  over  the  completed  scenes,  judging 
each  one  separately,  seeking  some  change  of  plot  that 
would  yet  permit  these  scenes  to  be  used.  From 
there  his  thought  drifted  to  the  day's  work  in  the 
blizzard, —  the  day's  work  that  had  been  lost  because 
of  atmospheric  conditions.  Blizzard  stuff  he  must 
have,  he  told  himself  stubbornly.  Kot  only  was  that 
a  phase  of  the  range  which  he  must  portray  if  his  pic- 
ture were  to  be  complete ;  he  must  have  it  to  lead  the 
story  up  to  that  tragic,  pitifully  eloquent  scene  which 
had  come  out  clear  and  photographically  perfect, — 


PLUMB  SPOILED  241 

the  scene  of  the  old  cow's  straggle  against  the  storm 
and  of  her  final  surrender,  too  weak  to  match  her 
puny  strength  against  the  furies  of  wind  and  snow 
and  cold.  That  scene  would  live  long  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  saw  it;  that  scene  alone  would  lift  his 
picture  above  the  dead  level  of  mediocrity.  But  he 
must  have  another  blizzard.  .  .  . 

His  eyelids  drooped  low  over  his  tired  eyes; 
through  their  narrowing  opening  he  stared  at  the  yel- 
low glow  of  the  fire.  Only  half  awake,  he  dreamed 
of  the  herd  drifting  down  that  bleak  hillside,  with 
Andy  and  the  Native  Son  riding  doggedly  after  them. 
Only  half  awake,  his  story  changed,  grew  indistinct, 
clarified  in  stray  scenes,  held  aloof  from  him,  grew 
and  changed,  and  was  another  story.  And  always 
in  the  background  of  his  mind  went  that  drift- 
ing herd.  Sometimes  snow-whitened,  their  backs 
humped  in  the  wind,  their  heads  lowered  and  swaying 
weakly  from  side  to  side,  the  cattle  marched  and 
,  marched  before  him,  sometimes  obscured  by  the  black- 
ness of  night,  a  vague  procession  of  moving  shadows ; 
sometimes  revealed  suddenly  when  the  lightning  split 
the  blackness.  Like  a  phantom  herd  — 

"  The  phantom  herd !  "     Aloud  he  cried  the  words. 
"  The  Phantom  Herd!  **     He  sat  up  straight  in  his 


242        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

chair.  Here  was  his  title,  for  which  his  mind  had 
groped  so  long  and  could  not  grasp.  His  title  — 

"  What  —  that  you,  Luck  ?  "  Andy  Green's  voice 
came  sleepily  from  the  next  room.  "What  yuh 
want?" 

"  IVe  got  my  title !  "  Luck  called  back,  his  voice 
exultant.  "And  I've  got  my  story,  too!  Get  up, 
Andy,  and  let  me  tell  you  the  plot !  " 

Whereupon  Andy  proved  himself  a  real  friend  and 
an  unselfish  one.  He  felt  as  if  getting  up  out  of  bed 
was  the  final,  supreme  torture  under  which  a  man 
may  live ;  but  he  got  up,  for  there  was  something  in 
Luck's  voice  that  thrilled  him  even  through  the  clog- 
ging sleep-hunger.  Presently  he  was  sitting  in  his 
trousers  and  socks  and  shirt,  sleepy-eyed  beside  Luck. 

"  Shoot  it  outa  your  system,"  he  mumbled,  and  be- 
gan feeling  stupidly  for  his  cigarette  papers.  "  E  — 
a-ougJi !  "  he  yawned,  if  so  inarticulate  a  sound  may 
be  spelled.  "  I  knew  you'd  have  to  work  your  story 
over,"  he  said,  more  normal  of  tone  after  the  yawn. 
And  he  added  bluntly,  "  Rosemary's  one  grand  lit- 
tle woman  —  but  she  couldn't  act  if  you  trained  her 
a  thousand  years.  What's  your  next  best  bet  ?  " 

"l$o  next  best;  it's  the  picture  this  time.  The 
Phantom  Herd.  Get  that  as  a  title  ?  " 


PLUMB  SPOILED  243 

"  Gee ! "  Andy  softly  paid  tribute.  Then  he 
grinned.  "  By  gracious,  they  sure  didn't  act  to  me 
like  any  phantom  herd  when  we  first  headed  'em  into 
that  wind !  " 

"  Them  babies  are  going  to  march  us  up  to  a  pile 
of  real  money,  though,"  Luck  asserted  eagerly. 

"Listen.  Here's  the  story  —  the  part  I've 
changed;  all  the  first  part  is  the  same  —  the  trail- 
herd  and  all.  You're  old  Dave's  son,  and  you're  wild. 
You  quarrel,  and  he  turns  you  out,  thinking  he'll  let 
you  rustle  for  yourself  awhile,  and  maybe  tame  down 
and  come  back  more  like  he  wants  you  to  be.  But 
you  don't  tame  that  way.  You  throw  in  with  Miguel, 
and  you  two  turn  rustlers.  You  hold  a  grudge 
against  your  dad,  and  you  rustle  from  him  mostly, 
on  the  plea  that  by  rights  what's  his  is  yours  —  you 
know.  Annie  is  Mig's  sweetheart,  and  she's  a  kind 
of  go-between  —  keeps  you  posted  on  what's  taking 
place  on  the  outside,  and  all  that.  I  haven't,"  he 
explained  hastily,  "  doped  out  the  details  yet.  I'm 
giving  you  the  main  points  I  want  to  bring  out. 
Well,  here's  the  big  stuff;  you  get  a  big  herd  to- 
gether. You're  holding  'em  in  a  box  canyon, —  I 
know  the  spot,  all  right, —  waiting  for  a  chance  to 
drive  them  outa  the  country;  see?  This  blizzard 


244.        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

hits,  and  you  take  advantage  of  it  to  drive  the  herd 
out  under  cover  of  the  storm.  But  the  blizzard  beats 
you.  You  trail  'em  along,  but  there's  only  two  of 
you,  and  you  can't  keep  'em  from  swinging  away 
from  the  wind.  You  try  to  hold  the  herd  into  the 
storm, —  that's  where  I'll  get  my  big  storm  effects, — 
but  they  swing  off  in  spite  of  you.  Your  horses  get 
tired;  all  you  can  do  is  follow  the  herd.  Lord!  I 
wish  that  stuff  I  took  to-day  wasn't  spoiled !  I  sure 
would  have  had  some  big  stuff  there.  Well,  Mig's 
horse  goes  down  in  a  drifted  wash.  You're  trying 
to  point  the  herd  then,  and  the  storm's  so  thick  you 
don't  miss  him  at  first,  we'll  say. 

"  Anyway,  as  I've  doped  it  out,  Mig  loses  his  life. 
You  find  him  dead  —  whether  then  or  later  I  don't 
know  yet.  The  punch  is  this:  You  have  been  get- 
ting pretty  sick  of  the  life,  and  wishing  you  had  be- 
haved yourself  and  stayed  with  your  dad.  But 
you've  been  afraid  of  Mig.  You  couldn't  see  any 
chance  of  taking  the  back  trail  as  long  as  he  was 
alive  to  tell  on  you.  Now  he's  dead.  I  guess  maybe 
you  better  find  him  right  there  in  the  blizzard  — 
hurt  maybe  —  anyway,  just  about  all  in.  You  try 
to  save  him,  sdbe  ?  You  can't,  though." 

"I  still  don't  see  no  phantom  herd,"  observed 


PLUMB  SPOILED  245 

Andy,  wriggling  his  toes  luxuriously  in  the  warmth 
of  the  fire. 

"  Well,  listen.  You'll  see  it  in  a  minute.  You  go 
back  home  after  your  pard's  dead.  You  have  a  close 
squeak  yourself,  see  ?  And  the  thing  works  on  your 
mind.  Gutting  out  the  frills,  you  see  things.  You 
see  a  herd  drifting  before  a  storm,  maybe, —  a  bliz- 
zard like  yesterday,  with  your  pal  riding  point.  You 
try  to  come  up  with  it  —  no  herd  there.  You  come 
to  yourself  and  go  back  home.  Then  maybe  some 
black  night  you're  brooding  before  a  fire  like  this  — 
I  can  get  a  great  firelight  effect  on  your  face,  sitting 
like  this  " —  Luck,  actor  that  he  was,  made  Andy  see 
just  how  the  scenes  would  look  — "  have  a  flare  in 
the  fire  to  throw  the  light  back  on  you;  see  what  I 
mean?  And  outside  a  thunderstorm  is  rolling  up. 
A  bright  flash  of  lightning  startles  you.  You  go  to 
the  door  and  open  it;  you  see  the  herd  drifting  past 
with  Mig  trailing  along  on  his  horse  —  black 
shadows,  and  then  standing  out  clear  in  the  light- 
ning — " 

"  How  the  deuce  — " 

"  I'll  do  that  with  '  lap  dissolves '  and  double  ex- 
posures. Lots  of  work  that  will  be,  and  careful  work, 
but  the  result  will  be  —  why,  Lord !  It  will  be  im- 


246        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

mense !  That  herd  and  the  lone  rider  haunt  you  till 
you're  on  the  edge  of  being  crazy.  Then  I'll  bring 
out  somehow  that  it's  a  nervous  condition,  which  of 
course  it  is.  And  I'll  bring  old  Dave  in  strong ;  he 
follows  you  some  night,  and  he  finds  out  what  you're 
after.  You  tell  him  —  make  a  clean  breast  of  your 
rustling,  see  ?  Just  unburden  your  mind  to  your  dad. 
He's  big  enough  to  see  that  he  isn't  altogether  clear 
of  guilt  himself,  for  sending  you  off  the  way  he  did. 
Anyway,  that  pulls  you  out  of  it.  The  phantom  herd 
and  rider  pass  over  the  sky  line  some  night  —  Lord, 
I  can  see  what  a  picture  I  can  get  out  of  that !  —  and 
out  of  your  life." 

"  Unh-hunh  —  that's  a  heap  better  than  your  first 
story,  Luck." 

"  Andy,  are  you  boys  going  to  talk  all  night  ?  "  the 
voice  of  Eosemary  came  plaintively  from  the  next 
room. 

"  Here.  You  go  back  to  bed,"  Luck  generously 
commanded.  "I  just  wanted  to  get  your  idea  of 
what  it  sounds  like.  I'll  block  it  out  before  I  turn 
in.  Go  on,  now." 

So  Luck  wrote  his  new  story  of  The  Phantom  Herd 
that  night.  He  had  a  midnight  supper  of  warmed- 
over  coffee  and  cold  bean  sandwiches,  but  he  did  not 


PLUMB  SPOILED  247 

Have  any  sleep.  When  he  had  finished  with  a  last 
big,  artistic  scene  that  made  his  pulse  beat  faster  in 
the  writing  of  it,  the  white  world  outside  was  grow- 
ing faintly  pink  under  the  rising  sun. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN" 

FBOM  DHIHB  BIQ  TUBKHT 


AKNTIE-MAITY-POKIES,  keen  of  eye  when 
her  heart  directed  her  glances,  saw  the  Kyle 
postmark  on  a  letter  while  Applehead  was  sorting 
Luck's  rnftil  from  the  weekly  batch  he  had  just 
brought  Luck  also  spied  the  Kyle  postmark  and 
the  familiar  handwriting  of  George-Low-Cedar,  who 
was  a  cousin  of  Annie-Many-Ponies  and  the  most 
favored  scribe  of  Big  Turkey's  numerous  family. 
There  waa  no  mistaking  those  self-conscious  shadinga 
on  the  downward  strokes  of  the  pen,  or  the  twice- 
curled  tails  of  all  the  capitals.  The  capital  M,  for 
instance,  very  much  resembled  a  dandelion  stem  split 
and  curled  by  the  tongue  of  a  little  girl. 

George-Low-Cedar  and  none  other  had  written  that 
letter,  and  Big  Turkey  himself  had  probably  com- 
posed it  in  great  deliberation  over  his  pipe,  while  the 
smoke  of  his  tepee  fire  curled  over  his  head,  and  his 
squaw  crouched  in  the  shadow  listening  stolidly  while 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     249 

her  heart  ached  with  longing  for  the  girl-child  who 
had  gone  a-wandering.  Annie-Many-Ponies  slid  un- 
obtrusively to  the  door  and  flattened  her  back  against 
the  wall  beside  it,  ready  to  slip  out  into  the  dusk  if 
she  read  in  Wagalexa  Conka's  face  that  the  letter  was 
unpleasant. 

Luck  did  not  say  a  word  while  he  held  the  letter 
up  and  looked  at  it ;  he  did  not  say  a  word,  but  Annie- 
Many-Ponies  knew,  as  well  as  though  he  had  spoken, 
that  he  too  feared  what  the  contents  might  be.  So 
she  stood  flat  against  the  wall  and  watched  his  face, 
and  saw  how  his  fingers  fumbled  at  the  flap  of  the 
envelope,  and  how  slowly  he  drew  out  the  cheap, 
heavily  ruled,  glazed  paper  that  is  sold  alongside  plug 
tobacco  and  pearl  buttons  and  safety  pins  in  the 
Indian  traders'  stores.  Staring  from  under  her 
straight  brows  at  that  folded  letter,  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  had  a  swift,  clear  vision  of  the  little  store  set 
down  in  the  midst  of  barrenness  and  dust,  and  of  the 
squaws  sitting  wrapped  in  bright  shawls  upon  the 
platform  while  their  lords  gravely  purchased  small 
luxuries  within.  As  a  slim,  barefooted  papoose, 
proud  of  her  shapeless  red  calico  slip  buttoned  un- 
evenly up  the  back  with  huge  white  buttons,  and  of 
her  hair  braided  in  two  sleek  braids  and  tied  with 


250        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

strips  of  the  same  red  calico,  she  had  stood  flattened 
against  the  wall  of  the  store  while  her  father,  Big 
Turkey,  bought  tobacco.  She  had  hoped  that  the 
fates  might  be  kind  and  send  her  a  five-cent  bag  of 
red-and-white  gum  drops.  Instead,  Big  Turkey  had 
brought  her  a  doll, —  a  pink-cheeked  doll  of  the  white 
people.  In  her  cheap  suitcase  which  she  had  car- 
ried wrapped  in  her  shawl  on  her  back  to  the  ranch, 
Annie-Many-Ponies  still  had  that  doll.  So  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  letter,  her  mind  stared  trance- 
like  at  the  vision  of  that  long-ago  day  which  had  been 
to  her  so  wonderful. 

Then  Wagalexa  Conka  looked  at  her  and  smiled, 
and  the  vision  of  the  store  and  the  slim,  barefooted 
papoose  with  her  doll  vanished.  The  smile  meant  that 
all  was  well,  that  she  might  stay  with  Wagalexa 
Conka  and  be  his  Indian  girl  in  the  picture  of  The 
Phantom  Herd.  Annie-Many-Ponies  smiled  back  at 
him, —  the  slow,  sweet,  sphinx-like  smile  which  Luck 
,  called  "  heart-twisting," —  and  slipped  out  into  the 
1  night  with  her  heart  beating  fast  in  a  strange  mixture 
of  joy  that  she  might  stay,  and  of  homesickness  for 
the  little  store  set  down  in  the  midst  of  barrenness 
and  dust,  and  for  that  long-ago  day  that  had  been 
so  wonderful. 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     251 

"  Bead  this,"  said  Luck,  still  smiling,  and  gave  the 
letter    into   the    flour-dusted    hands    of   Rosemary. 
"  Ever  see  a  real,  dyed-in-the-wool,  Indian  letter  ? 
Sure  takes  a  load  off  my  mind,  too ;  you  never  can  tell  / 
how  an  idea  is  going  to  hit  an  Indian.     Pass  it  on* 
to  the  boys." 

So  Eosemary  read,  with  the  whole  Happy  Family 
crowding  close  to  look  over  her  shoulder : 

Kyle,  P.Office 
Pine  Kidge,  So.D 

Monday,  Nov. 
Luck  Lindsay 

at  Motion  Pictures  ranch, 
Albequrqe, 
New  M. 
Friend  son, 

I  this  day  gets  letter  from  agent  at  agency  who  tell 
my  girl  you  sisters  are  now  at  New  mexicos  with  you 
pictures,  shes  go  way  one  days  at  night  times  and 
tomorrow  mornings  i  no  find  him.  i  am  glad  she 
sees  you.  you  Take  care  same  as  with  shows  them 
Buffalo  bill,  all  indians  have  hard  times  for  cold  and 
much  hays  and  fires  of  prairies  loses  much,  them 
indians  shake  you  hands  with  good  hearts  they  have  i 
with  you.  send  me  blue  silks  ribbon  send  Me  pic- 
tures so  i  can  see  you.  Again  i  shake  you  by  hand 
with  good  heart  same  as  I  see  you.  Speak  one  Letters 
quick  again. 

you  father, 

BIG  TURKEY. 


252        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  Pretty  good  spelling,  for  an  Indian  letter,"  Rose- 
mary commented  suspiciously.  "  Are  you  sure  an 
Indian  wrote  it,  Luck  Lindsay  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly,  I'm  sure !  "  Luck  was  shuffling 
his  other  letters  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose  mind  has 
for  the  moment  lost  its  load  of  trouble.  "  George- 
Low-Cedar  wrote  it.  I  know  his  writing.  He's 
Annie's  cousin,  and  he  thinks  he's  highly  educated. 
Indians  have  great  memories,  and  once  they  learn  to 
spell  a  word,  they  never  seem  to  forget  it.  They 
learn  to  spell  in  school.  What  they  don't  learn  is 
how  to  put  the  words  together  the  way  we  do. 
Cousin  George  is  also  shaky  on  capitals,  you  notice. 
Now  to-morrow  we  can  go  ahead  with  that  big  cattle- 
stuff.  I  can  take  my  time  about  making  Annie's 
scenes;  I  was  afraid  I  might  have  to  rush  them  all 
through  first  thing,  so  as  to  send  her  back.  I'm  sure 
glad  she  can  stay;  she's  good  to  have  around,  to  help 
in  the  house." 

Rosemary  screwed  up  her  lips  and  gave  him  a 
queer  look,  but  Luck  had  turned  his  attention  to  an- 
other letter,  and  she  did  not  say  what  was  in  her 
mind.  Annie-Many-Ponies,  speaking  theoretically, 
was  good  to  have  around  to  help  Rosemary.  In 
actual  practice,  however,  Rosemary  found  her  not 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     253 

so  good.  Personally  Annie  was  fastidiously  tidy, 
which  Rosemary  ungenerously  set  down  to  youthful 
vanity  rather  than  to  innate  cleanliness.  When  it 
came  to  washing  dishes,  however,  Annie-Many-Ponies 
left  much  to  be  desired.  She  was  prone  to  disappear 
about  the  time  she  reached  the  biscuit-basin  and 
the  frying-pan  stage  of  the  thrice-daily  performance. 
She  was  prone  to  fancy  she  heard  Wagalexa  Conka 
calling  her,  or  Shunka  Chistala  barking  in  pursuit 
of  the  cat,  or  a  hen  cackling  out  in  the  weeds ;  what- 
ever the  sound,  it  invariably  became  a  summons 
which  Annie-Many-Ponies  must  instantly  obey. 
Then  she  forgot  to  come  back  within  the  next  two  or 
three  hours,  and  Rosemary  must  finish  the  dishes 
herself.  But  all  this,  as  Rosemary  well  knew,  was 
an  unimportant  detail  of  the  general  scheme  of  work 
going  on  at  Applehead's  ranch. 

To  her  it  seemed  wonderful,  the  way  Luck  was 
pushing  his  picture  to  completion  against  long  odds 
sometimes,  fighting  some  difficulty  always.  Much 
as  she  secretly  resented  certain  Indian  traits  in 
Annie-Many-Ponies,  and  pleased  as  she  would  se- 
cretly have  been  if  the  girl  had  been  recalled  to  the 
reservation,  she  was  generously  relieved  because  Luck 
could  now  go  ahead  with  his  round-up  and  trail-herd 


254        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

scenes  while  the  weather  was  mild  and  sunny,  and 
need  not  hurry  the  Indian-girl  scenes  at  all. 

In  the  ten  days  since  the  blizzard,  Luck  had 
worked  hard.  Some  night  scenes  in  a  cow-town  he 
had  already  taken,  driving  late  in  the  afternoon  into 
Albuquerque  with  his  radium  flares  and  his  full  com- 
pany. Rosemary's  memory  cherished  those  nights 
as  rare  and  precious  experiences.  First  there  were 
the  old-time  scenes,  half  Mexican  in  their  atmosphere, 
when  the  dried  little  man  was  young,  and  the  trail- 
herd  started  north.  For  these  scenes  Luck  himself 
played  the  part  of  Dave  Wiswell,  turning  the  camera 
work  over  to  Bill  Holmes.  Then  there  were  the 
scenes  of  a  later  period, —  scenes  of  carousal  which 
depicted  her  beloved  Andy  as  a  very  wild  young  man 
who  spent  his  nights  riotously.  One  full  day  of  sun- 
shine had  also  been  spent  at  the  stockyards  there, 
taking  shipping  scenes. 

On  this  day  the  two  women  had  stayed  at  home, 
and  Rosemary  had  nearly  quarreled  with  Annie- 
Many-Ponies  because  Annie  would  not  mend  her 
stockings,  but  had  spent  the  whole  afternoon  teaching 
Shunka  Chistala  to  chase  prairie  dogs,  the  game  be- 
ing to  try  and  frighten  them  away  from  their  holes 
and  then  catch  them.  Annie-Many-Ponies  attended 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     255 

to  the  strategic  direction  of  the  enterprise  and  let 
Shunka  Chistala  do  most  of  the  running.  The  high, 
clear  laughter  of  the  girl  and  her  unintelligible  cries 
to  the  little  black  dog  had  irritated  Rosemary  to  the 
point  of  tears. 

There  had  been  no  more  days  wasted  because  of 
spoiled  film, —  Luck  was  carefully  guarding  against 
that, —  and  it  seemed  to  Rosemary  that  there  were 
miles  of  it  developed  and  dried  and  pigeonholed, 
ready  for  assembling.  That  part  of  the  work  she  was 
especially  interested  in,  because  it  was  done  in  the 
house. 

To  her  it  might  seem  that  miles  of  film  had  been 
made,  but  to  Luck  it  seemed  as  though  the  work 
crawled  with  maddening  deliberation.  Delays 
fretted  him.  The  mounting  expense  account  worried 
him,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  mounted  slowly, 
considering  the  work  he  was  doing  and  the  size  of 
the  company  he  was  maintaining.  When  he  took 
film  clippings  to  a  town  photographer  to  have  en- 
largements made  for  "  stills," —  the  pictures  which 
must  accompany  each  set  of  prints  as  advertising  mat- 
ter,—  the  cost  of  the  work  gave  him  the  blues  for  the 
rest  of  that  day.  Then  there  were  the  Chavez  boys, 
whom  he  had  found  it  expedient  to  use  occasionally 


256        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

in  his  big  range  scenes  and  in  his  "  cow-town  stuff." 
They  had  no  conception  of  regular  rates  as  extras, 
but  Luck  had  a  conscience,  and  he  had  also  estab- 
lished a  precedent.  Whenever  he  used  them  in  pic- 
tures, he  gave  Tomas  five  dollars  and  left  it  to  Tomas 
to  divide  with  Eamone.  And  five  dollars,  added  to 
other  fives  and  tens  and  twenty-fives,  soon  amounts 
to  an  amazing  whole  when  anxiety  holds  the  pen- 
cil. 

As  his  story  had  changed  and  developed  into  The 
Phantom  Herd  plot,  it  had  lengthened  appreciably, 
because  he  could  not  and  would  not  sacrifice  his  big 
range  stuff.  And  double  exposures  meant  double 
work,  of  course.  He  found  himself  with  a  five-reel 
picture  in  the  making  instead  of  the  four-reeler  he 
had  started  to  produce.  Thus  he  was  compelled  to 
send  for  more  "  raw  stock."  Also,  he  soon  ran  out 
of  lumber  for  his  interior  sets  and  must  buy  more. 
As  the  possibilities  of  his  production  grew  plainer 
to  him,  Luck  knew  that  he  could  not  slight  a  single 
scene  nor  skimp  it  in  the  making.  He  could  go 
hungry  if  it  came  to  that,  but  he  could  not  cheapen 
his  story  by  using  makeshift  settings. 

Thanksgiving  came,  and  they  scarcely  knew  it,  for 
the  weather  was  fine,  and  they  spent  the  day  far 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     257 

afield  and  came  in  after  dark,  too  tired  to  be  thankful 
for  anything  save  the  opportunity  to  sleep. 

Christmas  came  so  suddenly  that  they  wondered 
where  the  month  had  gone.  Christmas  Eve  the 
Happy  Family  spent  in  arranging  a  round-up  camp 
out  behind  the  house  where  the  hill  rose  pictur- 
esquely, and  in  singeing  themselves  heroically  in  the 
heat  of  radium  flares,  while  Luck  took  his  camp-fire 
scenes  that  were  triumphs  of  lighting-effects  and  pho- 
tography,—  scenes  which  he  would  later  tone  red 
with  aniline  dyes. 

Annie-Many-Ponies  and  Rosemary  brought  out  the 
two-gallon  coffee  boiler  and  a  can  of  cream  and  a 
small  lard  pail  of  sugar,  with  cups  and  tin  spoons 
and  a  pan  of  boiled-beef  and  cold-bean  sandwiches. 
Rosemary  called  "  Merry  Christmas !  "  when  the  dy- 
ing radium  flares  betrayed  her  approach,  and  the 
Happy  Family  jumped  up  and  shouted  "  Merry 
Christmas !  "  to  her  and  one  another,  just  as  exuber- 
antly as  though  they  had  been  celebrating  instead  of 
adding  six  hours  or  so  to  a  hard  day's  work. 

"  That  was  beautiful,  Luck  Lindsay,"  Rosemary 
declared,  giving  him  a  bean  sandwich  for  which  he 
declared  himself  "  strong,"  and  holding  the  sugar 
bucket  steady  while  he  dipped  into  it  three  times. 


258        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  We  were  watching  from  the  house ;  and  the  boys' 
faces,  the  way  you  had  them  placed,  looked  —  oh,  I 
don't  know,  but  it  just  sent  shivers  all  over  me,  it  was 
so  beautiful.  I  just  hope  it  comes  out  that  way  in 
the  picture !  " 

"  Better,"  mumbled  Luck,  taking  great,  satisfying 
bites  into  the  sandwich.  "  Wait  till  you  see  it  — 
after  it's  colored  —  with  the  chuck-box  end  of  the 
wagon  showing,  and  the  night  horses  standing  back 
there  in  the  shadows ;  she  will  sure  look  like  a  million 
dollars!" 

"  She'll  shore  depict  me  cookin'  and  the  smoke 
bilin'  up,"  poor  old  Applehead  remarked  lugubri- 
ously. "  Last  five  minutes  er  so  I  could  hear  grease 
a-fryin'  on  my  shins,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  " 

"  Well,  they  don't  use  radium  flares  in  cold-storage 
plants,"  Luck  admitted  reflectively. 

"  I  know,  by  cripes,  I'm  goin'  to  mend  my  ways," 
Big  Medicine  declared  meaningly.  "  I  never  real- 
ized b'fore  how  fire  'n  brimstone's  goin'  to  feel !  " 

"Well,  I've  got  to  hand  it  to  you,  boys,"  Luck 
praised  them  with  a  smile.  "You  sat  tight,  and 
when  I  said  '  Hold/  you  sure  held  the  pose.  You 
dissolved  perfectly  —  you'll  see." 

"  Aw,    gwan !  "   contradicted   Happy   Jack   with 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     259 

his  mouth  full.  "I  never  dissolved;  I  plumb 
melted!" 

"  If  you  boys  could  just  see  how  beautiful  you 
looked,"  Rosemary  reproved,  starting  on  her  sec- 
ond round  with  the  coffee  boiler.  "  I  saw  it  from 
behind  the  camera,  and  Luck  had  you  sitting  so  the 
light  was  shining  on  your  faces ;  honestly,  you  looked 
beautiful!" 

"  Aw,  gwan !  "  gurgled  Happy  Jack,  reddening 
uncomfortably. 

"  It's  late,"  Luck  broke  in,  emptying  his  cup  the 
second  time.  "  But  I'm  going  to  make  that  firelight 
scene  of  you,  Annie.  The  wind  happens  to  be  just 
right  for  the  flame  effect  I  want.  Did  you  make  up, 
as  I  told  you  ?  " 

For  answer,  Annie-Many-Ponies  threw  back  her 
shrouding  red  shawl  and  stepped  proudly  out  before 
him  in  the  firelight.  Her  brown  arms  were  bare 
and  banded  with  bracelets  of  some  dull  metal.  Her 
fringed  dress  of  deerskin  was  heavily  embroidered 
with  stained  porcupine  quills.  Her  slim  feet  were 
clothed  in  beaded  moccasins.  It  was  the  gala  dress 
of  the  daughter  of  a  chief,  and  as  the  daughter  of  a 
chief  she  stood  straight  and  slender  and  haughty  be- 
fore him.  The  Happy  Family  stared  at  her,  aston- 


260        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ished.  They  had  not  even  known  that  she  possessed 
such  a  costume. 

Ordinarily  the  Happy  Family  would  have  taken 
immediate  advantage  of  their  freedom  and  would 
have  gone  to  bed  and  to  the  sleep  for  which  their  tired 
bodies  hungered  the  more  as  the  food  and  hot  coffee 
filled  them  with  a  sense  of  well-being.  But  not  even 
Rosemary  wanted  to  go  and  miss  any  of  that  won- 
derful scene  where  Annie-Many-Ponies,  young  savage 
that  she  was,  stood  in  the  light  of  her  flaming  camp 
fire  and  prayed  to  her  gods  before  she  went  to  meet 
her  lover.  She  rehearsed  it  once  before  Luck  lighted 
the  radium  flares.  Then,  in  the  searing  heat  of  that 
white-hot  flame,  which  will  melt  rock  as  a  can- 
dle melts,  Annie-Many-Ponies  crossed  herself,  and 
then  lifted  her  young  face  and  bare  arms  to  the 
heavens  and  prayed  as  the  priest  in  the  mission 
school  had  taught  her, —  a  real  prayer  in  her  own 
Indian  tongue,  while  Luck  turned  the  crank  and 
gloated  professionally  in  her  beauty. 

The  Happy  Family,  watching  her,  remembered 
that  it  was  Christmas  morning;  remembered  oddly, 
in  the  midst  of  their  work,  the  old,  old  story  of  the 
three  Wise  Men  and  the  Star,  and  of  the  "Wonder- 
Child  in  the  manger.  Something  there  was  in  the 


LETTER  FROM  BIG  TURKEY     261 

voice  and  the  face  of  Annie-Many-Ponies  that  sug- 
gested it  Something  there  was  of  adoration  in  her 
upturned  glance,  as  if  she  too  were  looking  for  the 
Star. 

They  did  not  talk  much  after  that,  and  when  they 
did,  their  voices  were  lower  than  usual.  They 
banked  the  fire  with  sand,  and  Bill  Holmes  shoul- 
dered the  camera  with  its  precious  store  of  scenes. 
As  they  trooped  silently  down  to  the  house  and  to 
their  beds,  they  felt  something  of  the  magnitude  of 
life,  something  of  the  mystery.  Behind  them,  tread- 
ing noiselessly  in  her  beaded  deerskin  moccasins, 
Annie-Many-Ponies  followed  like  a  houseless  wraith 
of  the  plains,  the  little  black  dog  at  her  heels. 


be  going  to  snow,"  Weary  observed 
with  a  sly  twinkle,  "  'cause  Paddy  cat  has 
got  his  tail  brustled  up  bigger  than  a  trapped  coon." 

"  Aw,  that's  because  Shunky  Cheestely  chased  him 
all  the  way  up  from  the  corral  a  minute  ago,"  Happy 
Jack  explained  the  phenomenon.  "  I  betcher  he 
swaps  ends  some  uh  these  times  and  gives  that  dog 
the  s'prise  of  his  life.  He  come  purty  near  makin' 
a  stand  t'night." 

"  We-ell,  when  he  does  turn  on  that  thar  mongrel 
purp,  they's  goin'  to  be  some  dawg  scattered  around 
over  the  premises  —  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  "  Apple- 
head  cocked  his  eye  toward  Annie-Many-Ponies  and 
nodded  his  head  in  solemn  warning.  "  He's  takin' 
a  mighty  long  chance,  every  time  he  turns  that  thar 
trick  uh  chasin'  Compadre  all  over  the  place;  and 
them  that  thinks  anything  uh  that  thar  dawg  — " 

"  I  betcher  it's  goin'  to  snow,  all  right,"  Happy 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     263 

Jack   interrupted   the   warning.     "  Chickydees   was 
swarmin'  all  over  the  place,  t'day." 

"  We-ell,  now,  yuh  don't  want  to  go  too  much  on 
them  chickydees,"  Applehead  dissented.     "  Change 
uh  wind'll  set  them  flockin'  and  chirpin'.     Ain't  ary 
flake  uh  snow  in  the  wind  t'day,  fur's  I  kin  smell  — 
and  I  calc'late  I  kin  smell  snow  fur's  the  next  one." 

"  Oh,  let's  not  talk  about  snow ;  that's  getting  to 
be  a  painful  subject  on  this  ranch,"  Rosemary 
pleaded,  while  she  placed  twelve  pairs  of  steel  knives 
and  forks  on  the  long,  white-oilcloth-covered  table. 

"  '  Painful  subject '  is  right,"  Luck  stated  grimly, 
glancing  up  from  the  endless  figuring  and  scrib- 
bling which  seemed  to  occupy  all  his  time  indoors 
that  was  not  actually  given  over  to  eating  and  sleep- 
ing. "  If  you  don't  begin  to  smell  snow  pretty  quick, 
Applehead,  I  can  see  where  The  Phantom  Herd  don't 
have  any  phantom  herd."  The  corners  of  his  mouth 
quirked  upward,  though  his  smile  was  becoming  al- 
most a  stranger  to  his  face. 

"We-ell,  I  dunno's  you  can  blame  me  because  it 
don't  snow.  I  can't  make  it  snow  if  it  takes  a  notion 
not  to  snow  — " 

"  Oh,  come  and  eat,  and  never  mind  tHe  snow," 
called  Rosemary  impatiently. 


"  We've  got  to  mind  the  snow  —  or  we  don't  eat 
much  longer !  "  Luck  laid  aside  his  papers  with  the 
tired  gesture  which  betrays  heavy  anxiety.  "  The 
whole  punch  of  the  picture  depends  on  that  blizzard 
and  what  it  leads  up  to.  It's  getting  close  to  March, 

—  this  is  the  twentieth  of  February, —  and  the  Texas 
Cattleman's    Convention   meets   the   first   of   April. 
I've  got  to  have  the  picture  done  by  then,  so  as  to 
show  it  and  get  their  endorsement  as  a  body,  in  order 
to  boost  the  sales  up  where  they  belong." 

"  Mamma !  "  Weary  looked  up  at  him,  open-eyed. 
"  How  long  have  you  had  that  notion  in  your  head, 

—  showing  the  picture  to  the  Cattlemen's  Conven- 
tion ?     I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  I  might  say  quite  a  few  things  you  haven't 
heard  me  say  before,"  Luck  retorted,  so  harassed 
that  he  never  knew  how  sharp  a  snub  he  had  given. 
"  I've  had  that  in  mind  from  the  start;  ever  since 
I  read  when  and  where  the  convention  would  meet 
this  spring.  We've  got  to  have  that  blizzard,  and 
we've  got  to  have  it  before  many  more  days." 

"  Oh,  well,  we'll  have  it,"  Rosemary  soothed,  as 
she  would  have  comforted  a  child.  "  I  just  know 
March  will  come  in  like  a  roaring  lion !  Have  some 
beans.  They're  different,  to-night.  I  cooked  them 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     265 

with  plain  salt  pork  instead  of  bacon.  You  can't 
imagine  what  a  difference  it  makes !  " 

Luck  was  on  the  point  of  snapping  out  something 
that  would  have  hurt  her  feelings.  He  did  not  want 
baby-soothing.  It  did  not  comfort  him  in  the  least 
to  have  her  assure  him  that  it  would  snow,  when  he 
knew  she  had  absolutely  no  fo.undation  for  such  an 
assurance.  But  just  before  he  spoke,  he  remembered 
how  bravely  she  had  been  smiling  at  hardships  that 
would  have  broken  the  spirit  of  most  women,  so  he 
took  the  beans  and  smiled  at  her,  and  did  not  speak 
at  all. 

Trouble,  that  month,  was  riding  Luck  hard.  The 
blizzard  that  was  absolutely  vital  to  his  picture-plot 
seemed  as  remote  as  in  June.  Other  storms  had 
come  to  delay  his  work  without  giving  him  the  bene- 
fit of  any  spectacular  effect.  There  had  been  days 
of  whooping  wind,  when  even  the  saddle  strings 
popped  in  the  air  like  whiplashes,  and  he  could  not 
"  shoot  "  interior  scenes  because  he  could  not  shelter 
his  stage  from  the  wind,  and  everything  bjew  about  in 
a  most  maddening  manner  to  one  who  is  trying,  for 
instance,  to  portray  the  calmness  of  a  ranch-house 
kitchen  at  supper  time. 

There  had  been  days  of  lowering  clouds  which 


266        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

brought  nothing  but  exasperating  little  flurries  of 
what  Applehead  called  "  spit  snow," —  flurries  that 
passed  before  Luck  could  get  ready  for  a  scene. 
There  had  been  one  terrific  sand  storm  which  had 
nearly  caught  them  in  the  open.  But  Applehead 
had  warned  them,  and  Luck,  fortunately  for  them 
all,  had  heeded  the  warning.  They  had  reached 
shelter  just  before  the  full  force  of  the  storm  had 
struck  them,  and  for  six  hours  the  air  was  a  hell  of 
sand  in  violent  flight  through  the  air.  For  six  hours 
they  could  not  see  as  far  as  the  stable,  and  the  rooms 
were  filled  with  an  impalpable  haze  of  dust  which 
filtered  through  minute  crevices  under  the  roof  and 
around  the  doors  and  windows. 

Luck,  when  that  storm  broke,  was  worried  over  his 
negative  drying  in  the  garret,  until  he  had  hurried 
up  the  ladder  to  see  what  might  be  done.  He  had 
found  the  film  practically  dry,  and  had  carried  it 
down  in  much  relief  to  his  dark  room  which,  being 
light-proof,  was  also  practically  dust-proof. 

There  had  been  other  vexations,  but  there  had 
been  fine,  clear  days  as  well.  Luck  had  used  those 
fine  days  to  their  full  capacity  for  yielding  him  pic- 
ture-light. Could  he  have  been  certain  of  getting 
his  "  blizzard  stuff  "  now,  he  would  have  left  but  his 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     267 

one  load  of  financial  worry.  That  was  a  heavy  one, 
but  he  felt  he  could  carry  it  with  a  better  grace  if 
only  he  could  be  sure  that  his  picture  would  be  com- 
pleted in  time. 

"  Pass  the  beans,  Luck,"  Pink  broke  into  his  ab- 
straction. "  Seems  like  I've  had  beans  before,  this 
week,  but  I'll  try  them  another  whirl,  anyway." 

"  Ever  try  syrup  on  'em  ? "  old  Dave  Wiswell 
looked  up  from  his  plate  to  inquire.  "  Once  you  git 
to  likin'  'em  that  way,  they  go  pretty  good  for  a 
change." 

Pink,  anxious  for  variety  in  the  monotonous  menu, 
but  doubtful  of  the  experiment,  poured  a  teaspoon  of 
syrup  over  a  teaspoon  of  beans,  conveyed  the  mixture 
to  his  mouth,  and  made  a  hurried  trip  to  the  door. 
"  Say !  was  that  a  joke  ?  "  he  demanded,  when  he  re- 
turned grimacing  to  his  place. 

"  Joke  ?  'No,  ain't  no  joke  about  that,"  the  dried 
little  man  testified  earnestly.  "  Once  you  git  to 
likin'  'em  that  way  — " 

Pink  scowled  suspiciously.  "  I'll  '  take  mine 
straight,"  he  said,  and  sent  a  resentful  glance  at 
Annie-Many-Ponies  who  was  tittering  behind  her 
palm. 

"  I  calc'late  I  better  beef  another  critter,"  Apple- 


268        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

head  suggested  pacifically.  "  Worst  of  it  is,  the  cat- 
tle's all  so  danged  pore  they  ain't  much  pickin'  left 
on  their  bones  after  the  hide's  skun  off.  If  that  bliz- 
zard ever  does  come,  Luck's  shore  goin'  to  have  all 
the  pore-cow  atmosphere  he  wants !  " 

To  Luck  their  talk,  good-humored  though  it  was, 
hurt  him  like  a  blow  upon  bruised  flesh.  For  their 
faith  in  him  they  were  eating  beans  three  times  a 
day  with  laughter  and  jest  to  sweeten  the  fare.  For 
their  faith  in  him  they  were  riding  early  and  late, 
enduring  hardships  and  laughing  at  them.  If  he 
failed,  he  knew  that  they  would  hide  their  disap- 
pointment under  some  humorous  phase  of  the  failure ; 
—  if  they  could  find  one.  He  could  not  tell  them 
how  close  he  was  to  failure.  He  could  not  tell  them 
in  plain  words  how  much  hung  upon  the  coming  of 
that  storm  in  time  for  him  to  reach  the  cowmen  at 
their  convention.  Their  ignorance  of  the  profession 
kept  them  from  worrying  much  about  it;  their  ab- 
solute confidence  in  his  knowledge  let  them  laugh  at 
difficulties  which  held  him  awake  when  they  were 
sleeping. 

But  for  all  that  he  went  doggedly  ahead,  trusting 
in  luck  theoretically  while  he  overlooked  nothing  that 
would  make  for  success.  While  Applehead  sniffed 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     269 

the  air  and  shook  his  head,  Luck  was  doing  every- 
thing he  could  think  of  to  keep  things  going  steadily 
along  to  a  completion  of  the  production. 

He  made  all  of  his  "  close-ups,"  his  inserts,  and 
sub-titles.  He  cut  negative  by  his  continuity  sheet 
at  night  after  the  others  were  all  in  bed,  and  pigeon- 
holed the  scenes  ready  for  joining.  He  ordered 
what  "  positive  "  he  would  need,  and  he  arranged  for 
his  advertising  matter.  All  his  interior  scenes,  save 
the  double-exposure  "  vision  "  scenes,  were  done  by 
the  fifteenth  of  March, —  March  which  had  not 
come  in  like  a  roaring  lion,  as  Rosemary  had  pre- 
dicted with  easy  optimism,  but  which  had  been 
nerve-wrackingly  lamblike  to  the  very  middle  of  the 
month. 

With  a  dogged  persistence  in  getting  ready  for  the 
fulfilment  of  his  hopes,  he  ordered  tanks  and  printer 
for  the  final  work  of  getting  his  stuff  ready  for  the 
market.  He  had  at  best  a  crudely  primitive  outfit, 
though  he  saw  his  bank  balance  dwindle  and  dwindle 
to  a  most  despairingly  small  sum.  And  still  it  did 
not  snow  nor  show  any  faint  promise  of  snow. 

"  Well,"  he  remarked  grimly  one  morning,  when 
the  boys  asked  him  at  breakfast  about  his  plans,  "  you 
can  go  back  to  bed,  for  all  I  care.  I've  done  every- 


270        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

thing  I  can  do  —  till  we  get  that  snowstorm.     All  we 
can  do  now  is  sit  tight  and  trust  to  luck." 

"  What  day  uh  the  month  is  this  ? "  Applehead 
wanted  to  know.  His  face  was  solemn  with  his  re- 
sponsibility as  a  weather  prophet. 

"  The  twentieth  day  of  March,"  Luck  replied,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  has  the  date  branded  deep  on  his 
consciousness. 

"  Twentieth  uh  March  —  hm-mm  ?  We-ell,  now, 
I  have  knowed  it  to  storm,  and  storm  hard,  after  this 
time  uh  year.  But  comin'  the  way  she  did  last  fall, 
7n'  all  this  here  wind  'n'  bluster  V  snowin'  on  the 
Zandias  and  never  comin'  no  further  down,  I  calc'late 
the  chances  is  slim,  boy  — 'n'  gittin'  glimmer  every 
day,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  " 

"Well,  say!  Ain't  yuh  got  a  purty  fair  pitcher 
the  way  she  stands  ?  "  Big  Medicine  inquired  aggres- 
sively. "  Seems  t'  me  we've  done  enough  ridin'  and 
actin',  by  cripes,  t7  make  half  a  dozen  pitchers  bet- 
ter'n  what  I've  ever  saw." 

"  That  isn't  the  point."  Luck's  voice  was  lifeless, 
with  a  certain  dogged  combativeness  that  had  come 
into  it  during  the  last  two  months.  "  We've  got  to 
have  that  storm.  This  isn't  going  to  be  any  make- 
shift affair.  We've  got  some  good  film,  yes.  But 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     271 

it's  like  starting  a  funny  story  and  being  choked  off 
before  you  get  to  the  laugh  in  it.  We've  got  to  have 
that  storm,  I  tell  you !  "  His  eyes  challenged  them 
harshly  to  dispute  his  statement. 

"Well,  darn  it,  have  your  storm,  then.  I'm 
willin',"  Big  Medicine  bellowed  with  ill-timed  face- 
tiousness.  "  Pink,  you  run  and  git  Luck  a  storm ; 
git  him  a  good  big  one,  guaranteed  to  last  'im  four 
days  or  money  refunded.  You  git  one  — " 

"  Listen,  Bud."  Luck  stood  suddenly  before  Big 
Medicine,  quivering  with  nervous  rage.  "  Don't 
joke  about  this.  There's  no  joke  in  this  at  all.  No 
one  with  any  brains  can  see  anything  funny  in  hav- 
ing failure  stare  him  in  the  face.  Twelve  of  us  have 
put  every  ounce  of  our  best  work  and  our  best  pa- 
tience and  every  dollar  we  possess  in  the  world  into 
this  venture.  I've  worked  day  and  night  on  this  pic- 
ture. I've  worked  you  boys  in  weather  that  wasn't 
fit  for  a  dog  to  be  out  in.  I've  seen  Rosemary  Green 
slaving  in  this  dark  little  hole  of  a  kitchen  because 
we  can't  afford  a  cook  for  the  outfit.  You've  all  been 
dead  game  —  I'll  hand  it  to  you  for  that  —  every 
white  chip  has  gone  into  the  pot.  If  we  fail  we'll 
have  to  borrow  carfare  to  get  outa  here.  And  here's 
Applehead.  We've  used  his  ranch,  we've  used  his 


272        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

house  and  his  horses  and  himself;  we've  killed  his 
cattle  for  beef,  by  — !  And  we've  got  just  that  one 
chance  —  the  chance  of  a  storm  —  for  winning  out. 
One  chance,  and  that  chance  getting  slimmer  every 
day,  as  he  says.  No  —  there's  no  joke  in  this;  or 
if  there  is,  I've  lost  my  appetite  for  comedy.  I  can't 
laugh."  He  stopped  as  suddenly  as  he  had  begun  his 
rapid  speech,  caught  up  his  hat,  and  went  out  alone 
into  the  soft  morning  sunlight.  He  left  silence  be- 
hind him, —  a  stunned  silence  that  was  awkward  to 
break. 

"  It's  a  perfect  shame !  "  Rosemary  said  at  last, 
and  her  lips  were  trembling.  "  He's  just  about 
crazy  —  and  I  know  he  hasn't  slept  a  wink,  lately, 
just  from  worrying." 

"  I  calc'late  that's  about  the  how  of  it,"  Applehead 
agreed,  rubbing  his  chin  nervously.  "  He  lays  awful 
still,  last  few  weeks,  and  that  thar's  a  bad  sign  fer 
him.  And  I  ain't  heerd  'im  talkin'  in  his  sleep 
lately,  either.  Up  till  lately  he  made  more  pitchers 
asleep  than  he  done  awake.  Take  it  when  things 
was  movin'  right  along,  Mis'  Green,  'n'  Luck  was 
shore  talkative,  now  I'm  tellin'  yuh !  " 

"My  father,  he  got  one  oncle,"  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  spoke  up  unexpectedly  from  her  favorite  cor- 


"THE  CHANCES  IS  SLIM"     273 

ner.  "  Big  Medicine  man.  Maybe  I  write  one  let- 
ter, maybe  Noisy-Owl  he  come,  make  plenty  storm. 
Noisy-Owl,  he  got  awful  strong  medicine  for  make 
storm  come." 

"  Well,  by  cripes,  yuh  better  send  for  'im  then !  " 
Big  Medicine  advised  gruffly,  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN", 

THE    STORM 

rriHE  PHANTOM  HERD,  as  the  days  slipped 
M.  nearer  and  nearer  to  April,  might  almost  have 
been  christened  The  Forlorn  Hope.  On  the  twenty- 
first  the  sun  was  so  hot  that  Luck  rode  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  to  Albuquerque,  stubbornly  intending  to  order 
more  "  positive  "  for  his  prints  in  the  final  work  of 
putting  his  Big  Picture  into  marketable  form.  He 
did  not  have  the  slightest  idea  of  where  the  money  to 
pay  for  the  stuff  was  coming  from,  but  he  sent  the 
letter  ordering  the  stock  sent  C.O.D.  He  was  play- 
ing for  big  results,  and  he  had  no  intention  of  being 
balked  at  the  last  minute  because  of  his  timidity  in 
assuming  an  ultimate  success  which  was  beginning  to 
look  extremely  doubtful. 

On  the  twenty-second,  a  lark  flew  impudently  past 
his  head  and  perched  upon  a  bush  near  by  and  sang 
straight  at  him.  As  a  general  thing  Luck  loved  to 
hear  bird  songs  when  he  rode  abroad  on  a  fine  morn- 
ing; but  he  came  very  near  taking  a  shot  at  that 


THE  STORM  275 

particular  lark,  as  if  it  were  personally  responsible 
for  the  sunny  days  that  had  brought  it  out  scouting 
ahead  of  its  kind. 

On  the  twenty-third  the  sky  was  a  brassy  blue,  and 
Applehead  won  Luck's  fierce  enmity  by  remarking 
that  he  "calculated  he'd  better  get  his  garden  in." 
Luck  went  away  off  somewhere  on  the  snuffy  little 
bay,  that  day,  and  did  not  return  until  after  dark. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  he  took  the  boys  away  back 
on  the  mesa,  where  the  mountains  shoulder  the  plain, 
and  scattered  them  on  a  wide  circle,  rounding  up  the 
cattle  that  had  been  permitted  to  drift  where  they 
would  in  their  famished  search  for  the  scant  grass- 
growth.  Bill  Holmes  and  the  camera  followed  him 
in  the  buckboard  with  the  lunch,  and  Luck,  when  the 
boys  had  met  with  their  gleanings,  "  shot "  two  or 
three  short  scenes  of  poor  cows  and  their  early  calves, 
which  would  go  to  help  along  his  range  "  atmosphere." 
To  the  Happy  Family  it  seemed  a  waste  of  horse- 
flesh to  comb  a  twenty-mile  radius  of  mesa  to  get  a 
cow  and  calf  which  might  have  been  duplicated  within 
a  mile  of  the  ranch.  The  Happy  Family  knew  that 
Luck  was  wading  chin  deep  in  the  slough  of  despond, 
and  they  decided  that  he  kept  them  riding  all  day 
just  for  pure  cussedness. 


276        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

I  suppose  they  thought  that  his  orders  to  range- 
herd  the  cattle  they  had  gathered  came  from  the 
same  mood,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  mind.  They 
did  whatever  he  told  them  to  do,  and  they  did  it 
cheerfully, —  which,  in  the  circumstances,  is  saying 
a  good  deal  for  the  Happy  Family.  So  with  the 
sun  warm  as  early  May,  and  the  new  grass  showing 
tiny  green  blade-tips  in  the  sheltered  places,  they 
began  range-herding  two  thousand  head  of  cattle  that 
needed  all  the  territory  they  could  cover  for  their 
feeding  grounds. 

The  twenty-fifth  day  of  March  brought  no  faintest 
promise  of  anything  that  looked  like  snow.  Apple- 
head  sharpened  his  hoe  and  went  pecking  at  the  soil 
around  the  roots  of  his  grape-vine  arbor,  thereby  ir- 
ritating Luck  to  the  point  of  distraction.  He  had 
reached  a  nervous  tension  where  he  could  not  eat, 
and  he  could  not  sleep,  and  life  looked  a  nightmare 
of  hard  work  and  disappointments,  of  hopes  luring 
deceitfully  only  to  crush  one  at  the  moment  of  ful- 
filment. 

It  was  because  he  could  not  sleep,  but  spent  the 
nights  stretched  upon  his  side  with  his  wide-open  eyes 
boring  into  vacancy  and  a  drab  future,  that  he  heard 
the  wind  whine  over  the  ridgepole  of  the  squat  bunk- 


THE  STORM  277 

house  and  knew  that  it  had  risen  from  a  dead  calm 
since  bedtime.  The  languor  of  nervous  exhaustion 
was  pulling  his  eyelids  down  over  his  tired  eyes,  and 
he  knew  that  it  must  be  nearly  morning;  for  sleep 
never  came  to  him  now  until  after  Applehead's  brown 
rooster  had  crowed  for  two  o'clock. 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  dreamed  that  he  was 
"  shooting  "  blizzard  scenes  with  the  snow  to  his  arm- 
pits. He  was  chilled  to  the  middle  of  his  bones,  and 
his  hand  went  down  unconsciously  and  groped  for 
the  blankets  he  had  pushed  off  in  his  restlessness. 
In  his  sleep  he  was  yelling  to  the  Cattlemen's  Con- 
vention to  wait, —  not  to  adjourn  yet,  because  he 
had  something  to  show  them. 

"  Well,  show  'em,  dang  it,  an'  shut  up !  "  muttered 
Applehead  crossly,  and  turned  over  on  his  good  ear 
so  that  he  could  sleep  undisturbed. 

Luck,  half  awakened  by  the  movement,  curled  up 
with  his  knees  close  to  his  chin  and  went  on  with 
his  dream.  With  the  wind  still  mooing  lonesomely 
;  around  the  corners  of  the  house,  he'  slept  more 
soundly  than  he  had  slept  for  weeks,  impelled,  I  sup- 
pose, by  a  subconscious  easement  from  his  greatest 
anxiety. 

A  slow  tap-tap-tapping  on  the  closed  door  near  his 


278        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

head  woke  him  just  before  dawn.  The  lightest 
sleeper  of  them  all,  Luck  lifted  his  head  with  a  start, 
and  opened  his  sleep-blurred  eyes  upon  blackness. 
He  called  out,  and  it  was  the  voice  of  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  that  answered. 

"  Wagalexa  Conka !  You  come  quick.  Plenty 
snow  come.  You  be  awful  glad  when  you  see.  Soon 
day  comes.  You  hurry.  I  make  plenty  breakfast, 
Wagalexa  Conka." 

As  a  soldier  springs  from  sleep  when  calls  the 
bugle,  Luck  jumped  out  into  the  icy  darkness  of  the 
room.  With  one  jerk  he  had  the  door  open  and 
stood  glorying  in  the  wild  gust  of  snow  that  broke 
over  him  like  a  wave.  In  his  bare  feet  he  stood  there, 
and  felt  the  snow  beat  in  his  face,  and  said  never  a 
word,  since  big  emotions  never  quite  reached  the  sur- 
face of  Luck's  manner. 

"  Day  come  quick,  Wagalexa  Conka !  "  The  voice 
of  Annie-Many-Ponies  urged. him  from  without,  like 
the  voice  of  Opportunity  calling  from  the  storm. 

"  All  right.  You  run  now  and  have  breakfast 
ready.  We  come  quick."  He  held  the  door  open 
another  half  minute,  and  he  heard  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  laugh  as  she  fought  her  way  back  to  the  house 
through  the  blinding  blizzard.  He  saw  a  faint  glow 


THE  STORM  279 

through,  the  snow-whirl  when  she  opened  the  kitchen 
door,  and  he  shut  out  the  storm  with  a  certain  vague 
reluctance,  as  though  he  half  feared  it  might  some- 
how escape  into  a  warm,  sunny  morning  and  prove 
itself  no  more  than  a  maddeningly  vivid  dream. 

"  Hey !  Wake  up !  "  he  shouted  while  he  groped 
for  a  match  and  the  lamp.  "Boll  into  your  sour- 
doughs, you  sons-uh-guns — " 

"  Say,  Applehead,"  came  a  plaintive  voice  from 
Pink's  bunk,  "  make  Luck  turn  over  on  the  other  side, 
can't  yuh  ?  Darn  a  man  that  talks  in  his  sleep !  " 

"  By  cripes,  Luck's  got  to  sleep  in  the  hay  loft  — 
er  I  will,"  Big  Medicine  growled,  making  the  boards 
of  his  bunk  squeak  with  the  flop  of  his  disturbed 
body. 

Then  Luck  found  the  lamp  and  struck  a  match, 
and  it  was  seen  that  he  was  very  wide  awake,  and  that 
his  face  had  the  look  of  a  man  intent  upon  accom- 
plishment. 

The  Native  Son  sat  up  in  one  of  the  top  bunks  and 
looked  down  at  Luck  with  a  queer  solemnity  in  his- 
eyes.  "  What  is  this,  amigo  f "  he  asked  with  a 
stifled  yawn.  "  Another  one  of  your  Big  Minutes  2  " 

"  Quien  sale?"  Luck  retorted,  reaching  for  his 
clothes  as  his  small  ebullition  subsided  to  a  mislead- 


280        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ing  composure.  "  Storm's  here  at  last,  and  we'll 
have  to  be  moving.  Roll  out  and  saddle  your  ridge- 
runners  ;  Annie's  got  breakfast  all  ready  for  us." 

"  Aw,  gwan !  "  grumbled  Happy  Jack  from  sheer 
force  of  habit,  and  made  haste  to  hit  the  floor  with 
his  feet  before  Luck  replied  to  that  apparent  doubt 
of  his  authority. 

"  Dress  warm  as  you  can,  boys,"  Luck  advised 
curtly,  lacing  his  own  heavy  buckskin  moccasins  over 
thick  German  socks,  which  formed  his  cold-weather 
footgear.  "  She's  worse  than  that  other  one,  if  any- 
thing." 

"  Mamma ! "  Weary  murmured,  in  a  tone  of 
thanksgiving.  "  She  didn't  come  any  too  soon,  did 
she?" 

Luck  did  not  reply.  He  pulled  his  hat  down  low 
over  his  forehead,  opened  the  door  and  went  out,  and 
it  was  as  though  the  wind  and  snow  and  darkness 
swallowed  him  bodily.  The  horses  must  first  be  fed, 
and  he  fought  his  way  to  the  stables,  where  Apple- 
head's  precious  hay  was  dwindling  rapidly  under 
Luck's  system  of  keeping  mounts  and  a  four-horse 
team  up  and  ready  for  just  such  an  emergency.  He 
labored  through  the  darkness  to  the  stable  door, 
lighted  the  lantern  which  hung  just  inside,  and  went 


THE  STORM  281 

into  the  first  stall.  The  manger  was  full,  and  the 
feed-box  still  moist  from  the  lapping  tongue  of  the 
gray  horse  that  stood  there  munching  industriously. 
Annie-Many-Ponies  had  evidently  fed  the  horses  be-, 
fore  she  called  Luck,  and  he  felt  a  warm  glow  of 
gratitude  for  her  thoughtfulness. 

He  stopped  at  the  bunk-house  to  tell  the  boys  that 
they  had  nothing  to  do  but  eat  breakfast  before  they 
saddled,  and  found  them  putting  on  overcoats  and 
gloves  and  wrangling  over  the  probable  location  of 
the  herd  that  would  have  drifted  in  the  night.  So 
they  ploughed  in  a  straggling  group  to  the  house, 
where  Annie-Many-Ponies  was  already  pouring  the 
coffee  when  they  trooped  in. 

Day  was  just  breaking  when  they  rode  out  into  the 
full  force  of  the  belated  storm  and  up  on  the  mesa 
where  they  had  left  the  cattle  scattered  and  feeding 
more  or  less  contentedly  at  sundown.  They  had  not 
gone  a  mile  until  their  bodies  began  to  shrink  under 
the  unaccustomed  cold.  Bill  Holmes,  town-bred  and 
awkward  in  the  open,  thankfully  resigned  to  the  In- 
dian girl  the  dignity  of  driving  the  mountain  wagon 
with  its  four-horse  team,  and  huddled  under  blankets, 
while  Annie-Many-Ponies  piloted  them  calmly 
straight  across  country  in  the  wake  of  the  riders 


282        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

whom  her  beloved  Wagalexa  Conka  was  leading  on 
the  snuffy  bay.  Save  for  the  difference  in  his 
clothes,  Annie-Hany-Ponies  thought  that  he  much 
resembled  that  great  little  war-chief  of  the  white  peo- 
'  pie  who  rode  ahead  of  his  column  in  a  picture  hang- 
ing on  the  wall  of  the  mission  school.  Napoleon  was 
the  great  little  war-chief's  name,  and  her  heart 
swelled  with  pride  as  she  drove  steadily  through  the 
storm  and  thought  what  a  great  war-chief  her  brother 
.Wagalexa  Conka  might  have  made,  were  these  but 
the  days  of  much  fighting. 

There  was  to  be  no  trouble  with  "  static  "  this  time, 
if  Luck  could  help  it.  To  be  doubly  safe  from 
blurred  film,  he  had  brought  his  ray  filter  along,  for 
the  flakes  of  snow  were  large  and  falling  fast.  He 
had  chosen  a  different  location,  because  of  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind  and  the  difficulty  the  boys  would 
have  had  in  driving  the  cattle  back  in  the  face  of  it 
to  the  side  hill  where  he  had  first  taken  the  scenes  of 
the  drifting  herd. 

To-day  he  "shot"  them  first  as  they  were  filing 
reluctantly  out  through  a  narrow  pass  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  entrance  to  the  box  canyon  where  the 
two  rustlers,  Andy  and  Miguel,  had  kept  them  hidden 
away.  Artistically  speaking,  the  cattle  were  in  per- 


THE  STORM  283 

feet  condition  for  such  a  scene,  every  rib  showing  as 
they  trooped  past  the  clicking  camera  cleverly  con- 
cealed in  a  clump  of  bushes ;  hip  bones  standing  up, 
lean  legs  shambling  slowly  through  the  snow  that 
was  already  a  foot  deep.  Cattle  hidden  for  days  and 
days  in  a  box  canyon  would  not  come  out  fat  and 
sleek  and  stepping  briskly,  and  Luck  was  well  pleased 
with  the  realism  of  his  picture,  even  while  he  pitied 
the  poor  beasts. 

Later  he  took  the  drifting  of  the  herd,  and  he 
knew  in  his  heart  that  the  scenes  were  better  than 
those  he  had  lost.  He  took  tragic  scenes  of  the  Na- 
tive Son  in  his  struggle  to  keep  up  and  to  keep  going. 
He  took  him  as  he  fell  and  lay  prone  in  the  snow  be- 
side his  fallen  horse  while  the  blizzard  whooped  over 
him,  and  the  snow  fell  upon  his  still  face.  In  his 
zeal  he  nearly  froze  the  Native  Son,  who  must  lie 
there  during  two  or  three  "  cut-back "  scenes,  and 
while  Andy  was  coming  up  in  search  of  him.  When 
Andy  lifted  him  and  found  him  actually  limp  in  his 
arms,  the  anxiety  which  a  "  close-up  "  revealed  in 
his  face  was  not  all  art.  However,  he  did  not  say 
anything  until  Luck's  voracious  scene-appetite  had 
been  at  least  partially  satisfied. 

"  By  gracious,  I  believe  the  son-of-a-gun  is  about 


284        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

froze,"  he  snapped  out  then;  Luck  grinned  mirth- 
lessly and  called  to  Annie  for  the  precious  thermos 
bottle,  and  poured  a  cup  of  strong  black  coffee,  added 
a  generous  dash  of  the  apricot  brandy  which  he  spoke 
of  familiarly  as  his  "  cure-all,"  and  had  the  Native 
Son  very  much  alive  and  tramping  around  to  restore 
the  circulation  to  his  chilled  limbs  before  Bill  Holmes 
had  carried  the  camera  to  the  location  of  the  next 
scene. 

"  By  rights  I  should  have  left  you  the  way  you 
were  till  I  got  this  last  death  scene  where  Andy  buries 
you  under  the  rock  ledge  so  he  can  get  home  alive 
himself,"  Luck  told  Miguel  heartlessly,  when  they 
were  ready  for  work  again.  "  You  were  in  proper 
condition,  brother.  But  I'm  human.  So  you'll 
have  to  do  a  little  more  acting,  from  now  on." 

With  his  mats  placed  with  careful  precision,  he 
took  his  dissolve  "  vision  stuff  "  of  the  blizzard  and 
the  death  of  Miguel, —  scenes  which  were  to  torment 
the  conscience  of  Andy  the  rustler  into  full  repent- 
ance and  confession  to  his  father.  While  the  boys 
huddled  around  Annie's  camp  fire  and  guzzled  hot 
-coffee  and  ate  chilled  sandwiches,  Luck  took  some  fine 
scenes  of  the  phantom  herd  marching  eerily  along 
•the  skyline  of  a  little  slope. 


THE  STORM  285 

He  "  shot "  every  effective  blizzard  scene  he  had 
dreamed  of  so  despairingly  when  the  weather  was 
fine.  Some  scenes  of  especial  importance  to  his  pic- 
ture he  took  twice,  so  as  to  have  the  "  choice-of -ac- 
tion "  so  much  prized  by  producers.  This,  you  must 
know,  was  a  luxury  in  which  Luck  had  not  often  per- 
mitted himself  to  indulge.  With  raw  negative  at 
nearly  four  cents  a  foot,  he  had  made  it  a  point  to 
shoot  only  such  scenes  as  gave  every  promise  of  being 
exactly  what  he  wanted.  But  with  this  precious 
blizzard  that  numbed  his  fingers  most  realistically 
while  he  worked,  but  never  once  worried  him  for  fear 
the  sun  was  going  to  shine  before  he  had  finished,  he 
was  as  lavish  of  negative  as  though  he  had  a  mil- 
lion-dollar corporation  at  his  back. 

That  evening,  when  they  were  luxuriating  before 
the  fireplace  heaped  with  dry  wood  which  the  flames 
were  licking  greedily,  Luck  became,  for  the  first  time 
in  months,  the  old  Luck  Lindsay  who  had  fascinated 
them  at  the  Flying  U.  He  told  them  stories  of  his 
days  with  the  "  Bill  show,"  and  called  upon  the  gig- 
gling Annie-Many-Ponies  for  proof  of  their  truth; 
whereat  Annie-Many-Ponies  would  nod  her  head 
vigorously  and  declare  that  it  was  "  No  lie.  I  see 
him  plenty  times  do  them  thing.  I  know."  He  dis- 


286        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

puted  energetically  with  Big  Medicine  over  the  hard- 
ships of  the  day's  work;  and  as  a  demonstration  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  perfectly  able  to  go  out  right 
then  and  shoot  another  seven  hundred  feet  of  film, 
he  seized  upon  the  tom-tom  which  Annie-Many- 
Ponies  had  made  from  a  green  calf  hide  and  an  old 
cheese  box,  and  in  his  moccasins  he  danced  the  Sioux 
Buffalo  Dance  and  several  other  dances  in  which 
Annie-Many-Ponies  finally  joined  and  teetered 
around  in  the  circle  which  the  Happy  Family  en- 
thusiastically widened  for  the  performers. 

Work  there  was  yet  to  do,  and  plenty  of  it.  Even 
if  the  weather  came  clear  on  the  morrow  as  he  de- 
sired, he  must  make  every  minute  count,  if  he  would 
take  his  picture  to  the  Cattlemen's  Convention. 
Work  there  was,  and  problems  there  were  to  be 
solved.  But  he  had  his  big  blizzard  stuff,  and  he 
had  his  scenes  of  the  phantom  herd.  So  for  an  hour 
or  two,  on  this  evening  of  triumph,  Luck  Lindsay 
threw  care  into  a  far  corner,  and  danced  and  sang  as 
the  Happy  Family  had  never  known  he  could  do. 

"  Here,  Annie,  take  the  drum ;  it's  '  call  the  dog 
and  put  out  the  fire  and  all  go  home.'  If  my  luck 
stays  with  me,  and  the  sun  shines  to-morrow,  we'll 
take  these  interiors  of  the  double-exposure  stuff. 


THE  STORM  287 

And  then  we'll  be  eating  on  the  run  and  sleeping  as 
we  ride,  till  that  picture  pops  out  on  the  screen  for 
the  old  cattlemen  to  see.  Good  night,  folks ;  I'm  go- 
ing to  sleep  to-night !  " 

He  went  out  whistling  like  a  schoolboy  going  fish- 
ing. For  luck  was  with  him  once  more,  and  his 
'Phantom  Herd  was  almost  a  reality  as  a  picture. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

A    FEW    OF    THE    MINOR    DIFFICULTIES 

HOWEVER  obliging  fate  may  desire  to  be,  cer- 
tain of  nature's  laws  must  be  observed. 
Whether  luck  was  disposed  to  stay  with  Luck  Lind- 
say or  not,  a  storm  such  as  the  fates  had  conjured 
for  his  needs  could  not  well  blow  itself  out  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  blown  itself  in ;  so  Luck  did  not  get 
all  of  his  interior  double-exposure  stuff  done  the 
next  day,  nor  his  remaining  single-exposure  stuff 
either.  When  his  own  reason  and  Applehead's  ear- 
nest assurances  convinced  him  that  the  day  after  the 
real  blizzard  day  was  going  to  be  unfit  for  camera 
work,  Luck  took  Weary,  Pink,  and  the  Native  Son 
to  Albuquerque,  rented  a  little  house  he  had  discov- 
ered to  be  vacant,  and  set  them  to  work  building  a 
drying  drum  for  his  prints,  according  to  the  specifi- 
cations he  furnished  them.  He  hauled  his  tanks 
from  the  depot  and  showed  the  boys  how  to  install 
them  so  as  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  running  water, 
and  got  his  printer  set  up  and  ready  to  work ;  for  he 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        289 

knew  that  lie  would  have  to  make  his  first  prints  him- 
self, with  the  help  of  the  Happy  Family,  the  pho- 
tographer having  neither  the  room  nor  the  time  for 
the  work,  and  Luck  having  no  more  than  barely 
money  enough  to  pay  house  rent  and  the  charges  on 
his  tanks  and  printer. 

Then,  being  an  obliging  young  man  when  the 
fates  permitted  him  to  indulge  his  natural  tenden- 
cies, Luck  made  a  hurried  trip  to  a  certain  little  shop 
that  had  dusty  mandolins  and  watches  and  guns  and 
a  cheap  kodak  in  the  dingy  window.  He  went  in 
with  his  watch  in  his  pocket  ticking  cheerfully  the 
minutes  and  hours  that  were  so  full  of  work  and 
worry.  When  he  came  out,  the  watch  was  ticking 
just  as  cheerfully  in  a  drawer  and  the  chain  was 
looped  prosperously  across  his  vest  from  buttonhole 
to  empty  pocket.  He  went  straight  across  to  a  gro- 
cery store  and  bought  some  salt  pork  and  coffee  and 
cornmeal  and  matches  which  Eosemary  had  timidly 
asked  him  if  he  could  get.  She  explained  apologet- 
ically that  she  was  beginning  to  run  out  of  things, 
and  that  she  had  no  idea  they  were  going  to  have 
such  awful  appetites,  and  that  of  course  there  were 
two  extra  people  to  feed,  and  that  they  certainly 
could  dispose  of  their  share  three  times  a  day, — 


290        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

meaning,   of  course,   Annie-Many-Ponies   and  Bill 
Holmes. 

Even  while  his  brain  was  doing  swift  mental  gym- 
nastics in  addition  and  subtraction,  Luck  had  told  ! 
her  he  would  get  whatever  she  wanted.  His  watch' 
brought  enough  to  buy  everything  she  asked  for  ex- 
cept a  can  of  syrup;  and  that,  he  told  her,  the  gro- 
ceryman  must  have  overlooked,  for  he  certainly  had 
ordered  it.  He  called  the  groceryman  names 
enough  to  convince  Rosemary  that  her  list  had  not 
been  too  long  for  his  purse,  and  that  Luck's  occa- 
sional statement  that  he  was  broke  must  be  taken 
figuratively;  Luck  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  that 
Rosemary,  at  least,  was  once  more  spared  the  knowl- 
edge that  all  was  not  yet  plain  sailing  to  a  smooth 
harbor. 

The  next  day  being  sunny,  Luck  finished  the  ac- 
tual camera  work  on  The  Phantom  Herd.  That 
night  he  and  Bill  Holmes  developed  every  foot  of 
negative  he  had  exposed  since  the  storm  began,  and/ 
they  finished  just  as  Rosemary  rapped  on  the  dark- 
room door  and  called  that  breakfast  was  ready.  Bill 
took  it  for  granted  that  he  could  sleep,  then,  while 
the  negative  was  drying;  but  Luck  was  merciless; 
that  Cattlemen's  Convention  was  only  two  days  off, 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        291 

—  counting  that  day  which  was  already  begun, — 
and  there  was  also  a  twelve-hour  train  trip,  more  or 
less,  between  his  picture  and  El  Paso. 

Bill  Holmes  had  learned  to  join  film  in  movie 
theaters,  and  Luck  set  him  to  work  at  it  as  soon  as  he 
had  finished  his  breakfast.  When  Bill  grumbled 
that  there  wasn't  any  film  cement,  Luck  very  calmly 
went  to  his  trunk  and  brought  some,  thereby  win- 
ning from  Rosemary  the  admiring  statement  that  she 
didn't  believe  Luck  Lindsay  ever  forgot  a  single, 
solitary  thing  in  his  life!  So  Bill  Holmes  assem- 
bled the  film,  scene  by  scene,  without  even  the  com- 
fort of  cigarettes  to  keep  awake.  At  his  elbow  Luck 
also  joined  film  until  the  negative  in  the  garret  was 
dry  enough  to  handle,  when  he  began  cutting  it  ac- 
cording to  the  continuity  sheet,  ready  for  Bill  to 
assemble. 

Luck's  mood  was  changeable  that  day.  He  would 
glow  with  the  pride  of  achievement  when  he  held  a 
yard  or  so  of  certain  scenes  to  the  light  and  knew 
that  he  had  done  something  which  no  other  producer 
had  ever  done,  and  that  he  had  created  a  film  story 
that  would  stand  up  like  a  lone  peak  above  the  level 
of  all  other  Western  pictures.  When  those  night 
scenes  were  tinted  —  and  that  scene  which  had  for 


292        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

its  sub-title  Opening  Exercises,  and  which  showed 
the  Happy  Family  mounting  Applehead's  snakiest 
bronks  and  riding  away  from  camp  into  what  would 

be  an  orange  sunrise  after  the  positive  had  been 

/ 
through  its  dye  bath  — 

And  then  discouragement  would  seize  him,  and 
he  would  wonder  how  he  was  going  to  get  hold  of 
money  enough  to  take  him  to  El  Paso  and  the  Con- 
vention. And  how,  in  the  name  of  destitution,  was 
he  going  to  pay  for  that  stock  of  "  positive  "  when  it 
came  ?  Applehead  was  dead  willing  to  help  him, — 
that  went  without  saying ;  but  Applehead  was  broke. 
That  last  load  of  horse-feed  had  cleaned  his  pockets, 
as  he  had  cheerfully  informed  Luck  over  three  weeks 
before.  Applehead  was  not,  and  never  would  be  by 
his  own  efforts,  more  than  comfortably  secure  from 
having  to  get  out  and  work  for  wages.  He  had  cat- 
tle, but  he  let  them  run  the  range  in  season  and  out, 
and  it  was  only  in  good  years  that  he  had  fair  beef 
to  ship.  He  hated  a  gang  of  men  hanging  around 
the  ranch  and  eating  their  fool  heads  off,  he  fre- 
quently declared.  So  he  and  Compadre  had  lived  in 
unprosperous  peace,  with  a  little  garden  and  a  little 
grape  arbor  and  a  horse  for  Applehead  in  the  corral, 
and  teams  in  the  pasture  where  they  could  feed  and 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        293 

water  themselves,  and  a  month's  supply  of  "  grub  " 
always  in  the  house.  Applehead  called  that  comfort, 
and  could  not  see  the  advantage  of  burdening  himself 
with  men  and  responsibilities  that  he  might  pile  up 
money  in  the  bank.  You  can  easily  see  where  the 
coming  of  Luck  and  his  outfit  might  strain  the  finan- 
cial resources  of  Applehead,  even  though  Luck  tried 
to  bear  all  extra  expense  for  him.  No,  thought 
Luck,  Applehead  would  have  to  mortgage  something 
if  he  were  to  attempt  raising  money  then.  And 
Luck  would  have  taken  a  pack-outfit  and  made  the 
trip  to  El  Paso  on  horseback  before  he  would  see 
Applehead  go  in  debt  for  him.  As  it  was,  he  was 
seriously  considering  that  pack-horse  proposition  as 
a  last  resort,  and  trying  to  invent  some  way  of  shav- 
ing his  work  down  so  that  he  would  have  time  for 
the  trip.  But  certain  grim  facts  could  not  be 
twisted  to  meet  his  needs.  He  simply  had  to  print 
his  positive  for  projection  on  the  screen.  And  that 

positive  simply  had  to  go  through  certain  processes 

/ 

*  that  took  a  certain  amount  of  time ;  and  it  simply 
had  to  be  dry  and  poiished  before  he  could  wind  it 
on  his  reels.  Reels?  Lordee!  He  didn't  have 
any  reels  to  wind  it  on ! 

"What's    the   matter?     Spoil    something?"    Bill 


294        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Holmes  asked  indifferently,  pausing  to  look  at  Luck 
before  he  took  up  the  next  strip  of  celluloid  ribbon 
with  its  perforated  edges  and  its  little  squares  of 
shadowlike  pictures  that  to  the  unpractised  eye 
looked  all  alike. 

"Ho.  What  reel  is  that  you're  on  now?  We 
want  to  be  in  town  before  dark  with  this  stuff,  so  as 
to  start  the  printer  going  to-night."  By  printing 
that  night,  and  by  hard  riding,  he  might  be  able  to 
make  it,  he  was  thinking. 

"  Think  we'll  be  through  in  time  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  we'll  be  through  in  time."  Luck 
held  up  another  strip  to  see  where  to  cut  it.  "  We've 
got  to  be  through !  " 

"I'm  liable  to  be  joining  this  junk  by  the  sides 
instead  of  the  ends,  before  long,"  Bill  hinted. 

"!N"o,  you  won't  do  anything  like  that."  Luck's 
voice  had  a  disturbing  note  of  absolute  finality. 

Bill  looked  at  him  sidelong.  "A  fellow  can't 
work  forever  without  sleep.  My  head's  splitting 
right  now.  I  can  hardly  see  — " 

"  Yes,  you  can  see  well  enough  to  do  your  work  — 
and  do  it  right !  Get  that  ?  " 

Bill  grunted.  Evidently  he  got  it,  for  he  said  no 
more  about  his  head,  or  about  sleep.  He  did  glance 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        295 

frequently  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  at  Luck's  ab- 
sorbed face  with  his  jaw  set  at  a  determined  angle 
and  his  great  mop  of  iron-gray  hair  looking  like  a 
heavy  field  of  grain  after  a  thunderstorm,  standing 
out  as  it  did  in  every  direction.  Now  and  then 
Luck  pushed  it  back  impatiently  with  the  flat  of  his 
palm,  but  he  showed  no  other  sign  of  being  conscious 
of  anything  at  all  save  the  picture;  though  he  could 
have  told  you  off-hand  just  how  many  times  Bill 
turned  his  eyes  upon  him. 

At  noon  they  were  not  through,  and  to  Bill  the  at- 
tempt to  finish  that  day  seemed  hopeless,  not  to  say 
insane.  But  by  four  o'clock  they  were  done  with 
the  cutting  and  joining,  and  had  their  film  carefully 
packed  and  in  the  mountain  wagon,  and  were  ready 
to  drive  through  the  slushy  mud  which  was  the 
aftermath  of  the  blizzard  to  the  little  house  in  Al- 
buquerque which  the  boys  had  turned  into  a  crude 
but  efficient  laboratory. 

There  Luck  continued  to  be  merciless  in  his  driv- 
ing energy.  He  canvassed  the  moving-picture  thea- 
ters of  the  town  and  borrowed  reels  on  which  to  wind 
his  film  when  it  was  once  ready  for  winding.  He 
went  back  to  the  little  house  and  set  every  one  within 
it  to  work  and  kept  them  at  it.  He  printed  his  posi- 


296        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

tive,  dissolved  his  aniline  dye,  which  was  to  be  fire- 
light effect,  in  the  bathtub, —  and  I  should  like  to 
know  what  the  landlord  thought  when  next  he  viewed 
that  tub!  He  made  an  orange  bath  for  sunrise  ef- 
fects in  one  of  the  stationary  tubs,  and  his  light  blue 
for  night  tints  in  the  other.  He  buzzed  around  in 
that  little  house  like  a  disturbed  blue-bottle  fly  that 
cannot  find  an  open  window.  He  had  his  sleeves 
rolled  to  his  shoulders  and  his  hair  more  tousled 
than  ever;  he  had  blue  circles  under  his  eyes  and 
dabs  of  dye  distributed  here  and  there  on  his  face 
and  his  arms ;  he  had  in  his  eyes  the  glitter  of  a  man 
who  means  to  be  obeyed  instantly  and  implicitly, 
whatever  his  command  may  be, —  and  if  you  want 
to  know,  he  was  obeyed  in  just  that  manner. 

Happy  Jack  and  Big  Medicine  took  turns  at  the 
crank  of  the  big  drying  drum,  around  which  Andy 
and  Weary  had  carefully  wound  the  wet  film.  Be- 
ing a  crude,  home-made  affair,  the  crank  that  kept 
that  drum  turning  over  and  over  did  not  work  with 
the  ease  of  ball-bearings.  But  Happy  Jack,  rolling 
his  eyes  up  at  Luck  when  he  hurried  past  to  attend 
to  something  somewhere,  did  not  venture  his  opinion 
of  the  task.  JSTor  did  Big  Medicine  bellow  any  face- 
tious remarks  whatever,  but  turned  and  sweated,  and 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        297 

used  the  other  hand  awhile,  and  turned  and  turned, 
and  goggled  at  Luck  whenever  Luck  came  within  his 
range  of  vision,  and  changed  off  to  the  other  hand 
and  turned  and  turned,  and  still  said  nothing  at 
all. 

Bill  Holmes  went  to  sleep  about  midnight  and 
came  near  ruining  a  batch  of  firelight  scenes  in  the 
analine  bath,  and  after  that  Luck  did  all  the  tech- 
nical part  of  the  work  himself.  The  Happy  Family 
did  what  they  could  and  wished  they  were  not  so  ig- 
norant and  could  do  more.  They  could  not,  for  in- 
stance, help  Luck  in  the  final  assembling  of  the  pol- 
ished film  and  the  putting  in  of  the  sub-titles  and  in- 
serts. But  they  could  polish  that  film,  after  he 
showed  them  how;  so  Pink  and  Weary  did  that. 
And  at  daylight  Luck  shook  Bill  Holmes  awake  and 
set  him  to  work  again. 

Just  to  show  that  Luck  was  human,  even  though 
he  was  obsessed  by  a  frenzy  of  work,  he  sent  the  boys 
outside,  whenever  one  of  them  could  be  spared,  for 
the  smoke  they  craved  and  could  not  have  among  that 
five  thousand  feet  of  precious  but  highly  inflammable 
film.  But  he  did  not  treat  himself  to  the  luxury  of 
a  cigarette. 

Luck  had  not  yet  solved  the  problem  of  meeting 


898        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

the  expense  of  the  trip  to  El  Paso.  Riding  down 
with  a  pack-horse  would  take  him  too  long;  the  best 
he  could  do  would  not  be  quick  enough ;  for  the  Con- 
vention would  be  over  before  he  got  there,  and  his 
trip  therefore  useless.  He  worked  just  as  fast,  how- 
ever, as  though  he  had  only  to  buy  his  ticket  and  take 
the  train. 

And  then,  when  the  last  drumful  was  drying,  he 
got  his  idea,  and  took  Andy  by  the  shoulder  and  led 
him  out  into  the  little  front  hall.  "  Boy,"  he  said, 
"  you  hook  up  the  team  and  drive  like  hell  out  to  the 
ranch  and  get  the  camera  and  all  the  lenses.  And 
right  under  the  lid  of  my  trunk  you'll  find  a  letter 
file  marked  Receipts.  In  the  C  pocket  you'll  find 
the  sales  slips  of  camera  and  so  on ;  you  bring  them 
along.  And  bring  my  bag  and  any  clean  socks  and 
handkerchiefs  you  can  find,  and  my  gray  suit  and 
some  collars  and  ties.  Oh,  and  my  shoes.  Make  it 
back  here  by  two  o'clock  if  you  can;  before  three  at 
the  latest" 

"  You  bet  yuh,"  assented  Andy  just  as  cheerfully 
as  though  he  saw  some  sense  in  the  order.  Luck's 
clothes  were  a  reasonable  request,  but  Andy  could 
not,  for  the  life  of  him,  figure  any  use  for  the  camera 
and  lenses;  and  as  for  the  receipts,  that  sounded  to 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        299 

him  like  plain  delirium.  Andy's  brain,  at  that  time, 
seemed  to  be  revolving  slowly  round  and  round  like 
the  big  drying  drum,  and  his  thoughts  were  tangled 
in  exasperating  visions  of  long,  narrow  strips  of  wet 
film. 

However,  at  two-thirty  he  drove  smartly  up  to  the 
little  house  with  the  camera  and  Luck's  brown 
leather  bag  packed  with  the  small  necessities  of 
highly  civilized  journeying,  and  a  large  flat  package 
wrapped  in  old  newspapers.  He  had  not  set  the 
brake  that  signalled  the  sweating  horses  to  stop,  be- 
fore Luck  was  in  the  doorway  with  his  hat  on  his 
head  and  the  air  of  one  whose  business  is  both  urgent 
and  of  large  issues. 

"  Got  the  receipts  ?  All  right !  Where  are  the 
things?  This  the  lenses?  AU  right!  Put  the 
team  in  the  stable  and  go  get  yourself  some  rest." 

"  Where's  your  rest  coming  in  at  ? "  Andy  flung 
back  over  his  shoulder,  as  Luck  turned  away  with 
the  camera  on  his  shoulder  and  the  small  case  in  his 
hands. 

"  Mine  will  come  when  I  get  through.  I've  got 
the  last  reel  wound  and  packed,  though.  You  bed 
down  somewhere  and  sleep.  I'll  be  back  in  a  little. 
I'm  going  to  catch  that  four  o'clock  train." 


300        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

When  you  consider  that  Luck  made  that  statement 
with  about  fifteen  cents  in  his  pocket  and  no  ticket, 
you  will  understand  why  Andy  gave  him  that  queer 
look  as  he  drove  off  to  the  stable.  Luck  might  have 
climbed  up  beside  Andy  and  ridden  part  of  the  way, 
but  he  was  too  preoccupied  with  larger  matters  to 
think  of  it  until  he  found  himself  picking  his  footing 
around  the  mud  through  which  Andy  had  splashed 
in  comfort. 

At  the  bank,  Luck  went  in  at  the  side  door  which 
gave  easy  access  to  the  office  behind ;  and  without  any 
ceremony  whatever  he  tapped  on  a  certain  glass- 
paneled  door  with  a  name  printed  across.  He  waited 
a  second,  and  then  turned  the  knob  and  walked 
briskly  in,  carrying  camera,  tripod,  and  the  case  of 
small  attachments,  and  smiling  his  smile  of  white 
teeth  and  perfect  assurance  and  much  good  will. 

!ft>w,  the  cashier  whom  he  faced  was  a  tall  man 
worn  thin  with  the  worries  of  his  position  and  the 
care  of  a  family.  He  lived  in  a  large  white  house, 
and  his  wife  never  seemed  able  to  find  a  cook  who 
could  cook ;  so  the  cashier  was  troubled  with  indiges- 
tion that  made  his  manner  one  of  passive  irritation 
with  life.  His  children  were  for  some  reason  for- 
ever "  coming  down  "  with  colds  or  whooping-cough 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        301 

or  measles  or  something  (you  have  seen  children  like 
that),  so  his  eyes  were  always  tired  with  wakeful 
nights.  It  needed  a  Luck  Lindsay  smile  to  bring 
any  answering  light  into  the  harassed  face  of  that 
cashier,  but  it  got  there  after  the  first  surprised 
glance. 

Luck  stood  his  camera  —  screwed  to  its  tripod  — 
against  the  wall  by  the  door.  "  I'm  Luck  Lindsay, 
Mr.  White,"  he  announced  in  his  easy,  Texas  drawl. 
"  I'm  in  a  hurry,  so  I'll  omit  my  full  autobiography, 
if  you  don't  mind,  and  let  you  draw  your  own  conclu- 
sions about  my  reputation  and  character.  I've  a 
five-reel  feature  film  called  The  Phantom  Herd  just 
completed,  and  I  want  to  take  it  down  to  El  Paso  and 
show  it  before  the  Texas  Cattlemen's  Convention 
which  meets  there  to-day.  I  want  their  endorsement 
of  it  as  a  Western  film  which  really  portrays  the 
West,  to  incorporate  in  my  advertisements  in  all  the 
trade  journals.  But  the  production  of  the  film 
took  my  last  cent,  and  I've  got  to  raise  money  on 
my  camera  for  the  trip  down  there.  You  see  what  I 
mean.  I'm  broke,  and  I've  got  to  catch  that  four 
o'clock  train  or  the  whole  thing  stops  right  here. 
This  camera  cost  me  close  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 
Here  are  the  receipted  sales  slips  to  prove  it.  In 


302        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Los  Angeles  I  could  easily  get — "  He  caught  the 
beginning  of  a  denial  in  Mr.  White's  sidewise  move- 
ment of  the  head  — "  ten  times  as  much  money  on  it 
as  you  can  give  me.  You  probably  don't  know  any- 
thing at  all  about  motion-picture  cameras,  but  yon 
can  read  these  slips  and  find  out  how  prices  run." 

Mr.  White  had  in  a  measure  recovered  from  the  ef- 
fects of  Luck's  smile.  He  picked  up  the  slips  and 
glanced  at  them  indifferently.  "  There's  a  pawn- 
shop just  down  the  street,  I  believe,"  he  said. 
"Why—" 

"  I  want  to  leave  this  camera  here  with  you,  any- 
way," Luck  interrupted.  "  It's  valuable  —  too  valu- 
able to  take  any  risk  of  fire  or  burglary.  I  want  to 
leave  it  in  your  vault.  You've  handled  a  good  deal 
of  my  money,  and  you  know  who  I  am,  and  what  my 
standing  is,  or  else  you  aren't  the  right  man  for  the 
position  you  occupy.  It's  your  business  to  know 
these  things.  Now,  I'm  not  asking  you  for  any  big 
loan.  All  I  want  is  expense  money  for  that  trip.  If 
you'll  advance  me  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  dollars 
on  my  note,  with  this  camera  as  security,  I'll  thank 
you  and  romp  down  to  El  Paso  and  get  that  en- 
dorsement before  the  convention  adjourns  till  next 
year." 


MINOR  DIFFICULTIES        803 

Mr.  White  looked  at  the  camera  strangely,  83 
though  he  half  expected  it  to  explode.  "I  should 
have  to  take  it  up  with  the  directors  — " 

"  Directors !  Hell,  man,  that  train's  due  in  an 
hour !  What  are  you  around  here  —  a  man  in  au- 
thority, or  just  a  dummy  made  up  to  look  like  one  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you're  afraid  to  stake  me  to, 
enough  money  to  make  El  Paso  and  return  ?  What, 
for  the  Lord's  sake,  do  I  look  like,  anyway, —  a 
crook?" 

Mr.  White's  head  was  more  than  six  feet  in  the  air 
when  he  stood  up,  and  Luck  Lindsay  in  his  high- 
heeled  boots  lacked  a  good  six  inches  of  that  altitude ; 
but  for  all  that,  Luck  Lindsay  was  a  bigger  man  than 
Mr.  White.  He  dominated  the  cashier ;  he  made  the 
cashier  conscious  of  his  dyspepsia  and  his  thin  hair 
and  his  flabby  muscles  and  his  lack  of  enthusiasm 
with  life. 

"  The  directors  have  to  pass  on  all  bank  loans,"  he 
explained  apologetically,  "but  I  can  lend  you  the 
money  out  of  my  personal  account  If  you  will  ex- 
cuse me,  I'll  get  the  money  before  my  assistant  closes 
the  vault  And  shall  I  put  these  inside  for  you  ?  " 
He  rose  and  started  for  the  inner  door  with  a  depre- 
cating smile. 


304        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  take  a  note  ?  "  Luck  studied 
the  man  with  sharpened  glance. 

"  My  check  will  be  a  sufficient  record  of  the  trans- 
action, I  think."  And  Mr.  White,  with  two  or  three 
words  scribbled  at  the  bottom,  proceeded  to  make  the 
check  a  record.  "  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  stake  you, 
Mr.  Lindsay,  and  I  hope  your  trip  will  be  success- 
ful." 

He  got  another  Luck  Lindsay  smile  for  that,  and 
the  apology  he  had  coming  to  him.  And  then  in  a 
very  few  minutes  Luck  hurried  out  and  back  to  the 
little  house  on  the  edge  of  town. 

"  Where's  my  bag  ?  So  long,  boys ;  I'm  going  to 
drift.  I'll  change  clothes  on  the  train  —  haven't  got 
time  now.  Here's  five  dollars,  Andy,  for  the  stable 
bill  and  so  on.  Bill,  you're  the  only  one  of  the  bunch 
that  shirked,  so  you  can  carry  this  box  of  reels  to  the 
depot  for  me.  Adios,  boys,  I'm  sure  going  to  romp 
all  over  that  Convention,  believe  me,  if  they  don't 
swear  The  Phantom  Herd's  a  winner  from  the  first 
scene !  " 


CHAPTEE  NINETEEN 

WHEREIN    LUCK    MAKES    A   SPEECH 

LUCK  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  Texas  Cat- 
tlemen's Convention  and  looked  down  upon  the 
work-lined,  brown  faces  of  the  men  whose  lives  had 
for  the  most  part  been  spent  out  of  doors.  Their 
sober  attentiveness  confused  him  for  a  minute  so 
that  he  forgot  what  he  wanted  to  say  —  he,  Luck 
Lindsay,  who  had  faced  the  great  audiences  of  Madi- 
son Square  Garden  and  had  smiled  his  endearing 
smile  and  made  his  bow  with  perfect  poise  and  an 
eye  for  pretty  faces ;  who  had  without  a  quiver  faced 
the  camera,  many's  the  time,  in  difficult  scenes;  who 
had  faced  death  more  times  than  he  could  count, 
and  what  was  to  him  worse  than  death, —  blank  fail- 
^ure.  But  these  old  range-men  with  the  wind-and- 
sun  wrinkles  around  their  eyes,  and  their  ready-to- 
wear  suits,  and  their  judicial  air  of  sober  attention, 
—  these  were  to  him  the  jury  that  would  weigh  his 
work  and  say  whether  it  was  worthy.  These  men  — 


306        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

And  then  one  of  them  suddenly  cleared  his  throat 
with  a  rasping  sound  like  old  Dave  Wiswell,  his 
dried  little  cowinan  of  the  picture,  and  embarrass- 
ment dropped  from  Luck  like  a  cloak  flung  aside. 
He  was  here  to  put  his  work  to  the  test ;  to  let  these 
men  say  whether  The  Phantom  Herd  was  worthy  to 
be  called  a  great  picture,  one  of  which  the  West  could 
be  proud.  So  he  pushed  back  his  mop  of  hair  — 
grayer  than  the  hair  of  many  here  old  enough  to  be 
his  father  —  with  the  flat  of  his  palm,  and  looked 
straight  into  the  faces  of  these  men  and  said  what  ht 
had  to  say: 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  and  gentlemen  of  this  Conven- 
tion, I  consider  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  able  to  stand 
here  and  speak  to  you  —  a  greater  privilege  than 
any  of  you  realize,  perhaps.  For  my  heart  has  al- 
ways been  in  the  range-land,  my  people  have  been 
the  people  of  the  plains.  I  have  to-day  been  hon- 
ored by  the  hand-grip  of  old-timers  who  were  riding 
circle,  trailing  long-horns,  and  working  cattle  whenr 
I  was  a  boy  in  short  pants. 

"  I  have  trailed  herds  on  the  pay  roll  of  one  man 
who  remembers  me  here  to-day,  and  of  others  who 
have  crossed  the  Big  Divide.  I  have  seen  the  open 
range  shrink  before  the  coming  of  barbed  wire  and 


LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH     307 

settlers.  I  have  watched  the  '  long  shadow '  fall 
across  God's  own  cattle  country. 

"  Since  I  entered  the  motion-picture  business,  my 
one  great  aim  and  my  one  great  dream  has  been  to 
produce  one  real  Western  picture.  One  picture  that 
I  could  present  with  pride  to  such  a  convention  as 
this,  and  have  men  who  have  spent  their  lives  in  the 
cattle  industry  give  it  the  stamp  of  their  approval; 
one  picture  that  would  make  such  men  forget  the 
present  and  relive  the  old  days  when  they  were 
punchers  all  and  proud  of  it.  Such  an  opportunity 
came  to  me  last  fall  and  I  made  the  most  of  it.  I 
got  me  a  bunch  of  real'  boys,  and  went  to  work  on  the 
picture  I  have  called  The  Phantom  nerd.  From 
the  trail-herds  going  north  I  have  tried  to  weave  into 
my  story  a  glimpse  of  the  whole  history  of  the  range 
critter,  from  the  shivering,  new-born  calf  that  hit  the 
range  along  with  a  spring  blizzard,  to  the  big,  four- 
year-old  steer  prodded  up  the  chutes  into  the  ship- 
ping cars. 

"  I  want  you,  who  know  the  false  from  the  real,  to 
see  The  Phantom  Herd  and  say  whether  I  have  done 
my  work  well.  I  finished  the  picture  yesterday,  and 
I  have  brought  it  down  here  for  the  purpose  of  ask- 
ing you  to  honor  me  by  accepting  an  invitation  to  a 


308 

private  showing  of  the  picture  this  evening,  here  in 
this  hall.  I  want  you  to  come  and  bring  your  wives 
and  your  children  with  you  if  you  can.  I  want  you 
to  see  The  Phantom  Herd  before  it  goes  to  the  public 
—  and  to-morrow  I  shall  face  you  again  and  accept 
your  verdict.  You  know  the  West.  You  will 
know  a  Western  picture  when  you  see  it.  I  know 
you  know,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  it.  Your  word  will  be  final,  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. Gentlemen,  I  hope  you  will  all  be  present 
here  to-night  at  eight  o'clock  a?  my  guests.  I  thank 
you  for  your  attention." 

Luck  went  away  from  there  feeling,  and  telling 
himself  emphatically,  that  he  had  made  a  "  rotten  " 
talk.  He  had  not  said  what  he  had  meant  to  say,  or 
at  least  he  had  not  said  it  the  way  he  had  meant  to 
say  it.  But  he  was  too  busy  to  dwell  much  upon  his 
deficiencies  as  an  orator ;  he  had  yet  to  borrow  a  pro- 
jection machine  and  operator  from  somewhere  — 
for,  as  usual,  he  had  issued  his  invitation  before  he 
had  definitely  arranged  for  the  exhibition,  and  had 
trusted  to  luck  and  his  own  efforts  to  be  able  to  keep 
his  promise. 

Luck  (or  his  own  efforts)  landed  him  within  easy 
conversational  reach  of  a  man  who  was  preparing 


LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH     309 

to  open  a  little  theater  on  a  side  street.  The  seats 
were  not  in  yet,  but  he  had  his  machine,  and  he 
meant  to  operate  it  himself,  while  his  wife  sold  tick- 
ets and  his  boy  acted  as  usher, —  a  family  combina- 
tion which  to  Luck  seemed  likely  to  be  a  success. 
This  man,  when  Luck  made  known  his  needs,  said  he 
was  perfectly  willing  to  "  limber  up  "  his  machine 
and  himself  on  The  Phantom  Herd,  if  Luck  would 
let  his  wife  and  boy  see  the  picture,  and  would  pay 
the  slight  operating  expenses.  So  that  was  settled 
very  easily. 

At  five  minutes  to  eight  that  evening  all  of  the 
cattlemen  and  a  few  favored,  influential  citizens  of 
El  Paso  whom  Luck  had  invited  personally  sat  wait- 
ing before  the  blank  screen.  Up  in  the  operator's 
cramped  quarters  Luck  was  having  a  nervous  chill 
and  trying  his  best  not  to  show  it,  and  he  was  telling 
the  operator  to  give  it  time  enough,  for  the  Lord's 
sake,  and  to  be  sure  he  had  everything  ready  before 
he  started  in,  and  so  forth,  until  the  operator  was  al- 
most as  nervous  as  Luck  himself. 

"  ISTow,  look  here,"  he  cried  exasperatedly  at  last. 
"You  know  your  business,  and  I  know  mine. 
You're  going  to  have  me  named  in  your  write-ups 
as  the  movie-man  that  run  this  show  for  the  conven- 


310        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

tion,  ain't  you?  And  I'm  going  to  open  up  a  pic- 
ture house  next  week  in  this  town,  ain't  I  ?  And  I 
ain't  going  to  advertise  myself  as  a  bum  operator,  am 
I  ?  Now  you  vamos  outa  here  and  get  down  there  in 
the  audience,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  get  the  fid- 
gets and  spoil  something.  Go  on  —  beat  it !  " 

Luck  must  have  been  in  a  strange  condition,  for 
he  beat  it  promptly  and  without  any  retort,  and  slid 
furtively  into  a  chair  between  two  old  range-men 
just  as  the  operator's  boy-usher  switched  off  the 
lights.  Luck's  heart  began  to  pound  so  that  he  half 
expected  his  neighbors  to  tell  him  to  close  his 
muffler, —  only  they  were  of  the  saddle-horse  fra- 
ternity and  would  not  have  known  what  the  phrase 
meant. 

The  Phantom  Herd  flashed  suddenly  upon  the 
screen  and  joggled  there  dizzily,  away  over  to  one 
side.  Luck  clapped  his  hand  to  his  perspiring  fore- 
head and  murmured  "  Oh,  my  Gawd !  "  like  a  prayer, 
and  shut  his  eyes  to  hide  from  them  the  desecration, 
He  opened  them  to  find  that  the  caste  was  just  flick- , 
ing  off  and  the  first  scene  dissolving  in. 

The  man  at  his  left  gave  a  long  sigh  and  crossed 
his  knees,  and  leaned  back  and  began  to  chew  to- 
bacco rapidly  between  his  worn  old  molars. 


LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH     811 

"Oil,  a  ien  dollar  hosg  and  a  forty  dollar  saddle, 
I'm  gow?  to  punthin'  Texas  cattle" 

The  sub-title  dissolved  slowly  into  a  scene  showing 
a  cow-puncher  (who  was  Weary)  swinging  on  to  his 
rangy  cow-horse  and  galloping  away  after  the  chuck- 
wagon  just  disappearing  in  the  wake  of  the  dust- 
flinging  remuda.  Back  somewhere  in  the  dusk  of 
the  audience,  a  man  began  to  hum  the  tune  that 
went  with  the  words,  and  the  heart  of  Luck  Lindsay 
gave  an  eniltant  bound.  He  had  used  lines  from 
"  The  Old  Chisholm  Trail  "  and  other  old-time  range 
gongs  for  his  sub-titles,  to  keep  the  range  atmosphere 
complete,  and  that  cracked  voice  humming  uncon- 
gciously  told  how  it  appealed  to  these  men  of  the 
range. 

Luck  did  not  slide  down  in  his  seat  so  that  his 
head  rested  on  the  chair-back  while  The  Phantom, 
Herd  was  being  shown.  Instead,  he  sat  leaning  for- 
ward, with  his  face  white  and  strained,  and  watched 
for  weak  points  and  for  bad  photography  and  scenes 
that  could  have  been  bettered. 

He  saw  the  big  trail-herd  go  winding  away  across 
the  level,  with  Weary  riding  "point"  and  Happy 
Jack  bringing  up  the  "  drag,"  and  the  others  scat- 
tered along  between ;  riding  slouched  in  their  saddles, 


312        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

hat-brims  pulled  low  over  eyes  smarting  with  the  dust 
that  showed  in  a  thin  film  at  the  head  of  the  herd 
and  grew  thicker  toward  the  drag,  until  riders  and 
animals  were  seen  dimly  through  a  haze. 

"  My  —  I  can  just  feel  that  dust  in  m'  throat !  " 
muttered  the  man  at  his  right,  and  coughed. 

Luck  saw  the  storm  come  muttering  up  just  as  the 
cattle  were  bedding  down  for  the  night.  He  saw  the 
lightning,  and  he  knew  that  those  who  watched  with 
him  were  straining  forward.  He  heard  some  one 
say  involuntarily :  "  They'll  break  and  run,  sure  as 
hell !  "  and  he  knew  that  he  had  done  that  part  of  his 
work  well. 

He  saw  the  night  scenes  he  had  taken  in  town. 
He  almost  forgot  that  all  this  was  his  work,  so 
smoothly  did  the  story  steal  across  his  senses  and  be- 
guile him  into  half  believing  it  was  true  and  not  a 
fabric  which  he  had  built  with  careful  planning  and 
much  toil.  He  saw  the  round-up  scenes;  the  day- 
herd,  the  cutting-out  and  the  branding,  the  beef-herd 
driven  to  the  shipping  cars.  True,  those  steers  were 
not  exactly  prime  beef, —  he  had  caught  the  culls 
only,  late  in  the  season  for  these  scenes  —  but  they 
passed,  with  one  audible  comment  that  this  was  a 
poor  season  for  beef! 


"We  rounded  'em  up  and  we  put  'em  In  the  cars — " 

The  sub-title  sang  itself  familiarly  into  the  minds 
of  the  range  men.  More  than  one  voice  was  heard  to 
begin  a  surreptitious  humming  of  the  old  tune,  and 
to  cease  abruptly  with  the  sudden  self-consciousness 
of  the  singer. 

But  there  was  the  story,  growing  insensibly  out  of 
the  range  work.  Luck,  more  at  ease  now  in  his 
mind,  studied  it  critically.  There  was  the  quarrel 
between  old  Dave  and  Andy,  his  son.  He  saw  the 
old  man  out  with  his  men,  standing  his  shift  of  night- 
guard,  stubbornly  resisting  the  creeping  years  and 
hia  load  of  trouble;  riding  around  the  sleeping  herd 
with  his  head  sunk  on  his  chest,  meeting  the  younger 
guard  twice  on  each  complete  circle,  and  yet  never 
seeming  to  see  him  at  all. 

"Sing  low  to  your  cattle,  sing  low  to  your  steers — " 

The  words  and  the  scene  opened  wide  the  door  of 
memory  and  let  whole  troops  of  ghosts  come  drifting 
in  out  of  the  past.  The  hall,  Luck  roused  himself  to 
notice,  was  very,  very  still ;  so  still  that  the  sizzling 
sound  of  the  machine  at  the  rear  was  distinct  and 
oppressive. 

There  was  the  blizzard,  terrible  in  its  biting  real- 


314        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

ism.  There  was  the  old  cow  and  calf,  separated 
from  the  herd,  fighting  in  the  primal  instinct  to  pre- 
serve themselves  alive, —  fighting  and  losing.  There 
was  that  other,  more  terrible  fight  for  existence,  the 
fight  of  the  Native  Son  against  ths  snow  and  the 
cold.  Men  drew  their  hreath  sharply  when  he  fell 
and  did  not  rise  again.  They  shivered  when  the 
snow  began  to  drift  against  his  quiet  body,  to  lodge 
and  shift  and  settle,  and  grow  higher  and  higher 
until  the  bank  was  even  with  his  shoulders,  to  drift 
over  him  and  make  of  him  a  white  mound  —  And 
then,  when  Andy  staggered  up  through  the  swirl, 
leading  his  horse  and  shouting;  when  he  stumbled 
against  Miguel  and  tried  to  raise  him  and  rouse  him, 
a  sound  like  a  groan  went  through  the  crowd. 

"  Close  a  call  as  I  ever  had  was  in  a  blizzard  like 
that,"  the  old  man  at  Luck's  left  whispered  agita- 
tedly to  Luck  behind  his  palm,  when  the  lights 
snapped  on  while  the  operator  was  changing  for  the 
last  reel. 

There  was  Andy,  haunted  and  haggard,  at  home 
again  with  his  father.  There  were  those  dissolve 
scenes  of  the  "  phantom  herd "  drifting  always 
across  the  sky-line  whenever  Andy  looked  out  into 
the  night  or  rose  startled  from  uneasy  sleep.  Weird, 


LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH     315 

it  was, —  weird  and  real  and  very  terrible.  And, 
at  last,  there  was  that  wonderful  camp-fire  scene  of 
the  Indian  girl  who  prayed  to  her  gods  before  she 
went  to  meet  her  lover  who  was  dead  and  could  not 
keep  the  tryst.  There  were  heart-breaking  scenes 
where  the  Indian  girl  wandered  in  wild  places,  look- 
ing, hoping,  despairing  —  Luck  had  planned  every 
little  detail  of  those  scenes,  and  yet  they  thrilled  him 
as  though  he  had  come  to  them  unawares. 

He  did  not  wait  after  the  last  scene  faded  out 
slowly.  He  slipped  quietly  into  the  aisle  and  went 
away,  while  the  hands  of  the  old-timers  were  sting- 
ing with  applause.  Halfway  down  the  block;  he 
heard  it  still,  and  his  steps  quickened  unconsciously. 
They  were  calling  his  name,  back  there  in  the  hall. 
They  were  all  talking  at  once  and  clapping  their 
hands  and,  as  an  interlude,  shouting  the  name  of 
Luck  Lindsay.  But  Luck  did  not  heed.  He 
wanted  to  get  away  by  himself.  He  did  not  feel  as 
though  he  could  say  anything  at  all  to  any  one,  just 
then.  He  had  seen  his  Big  Picture,  and  he  had  seen 
that  it  was  as  big  and  as  perfect,  almost,  as  he  had 
dreamed  it.  To  Luck,  at  that  moment,  words  would 
have  cheapened  it, —  even  the  words  of  the  old  cat- 
tlemen. 


316        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

He  went  to  his  hotel  and  straight  up  to  his  room, 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  it  would  have  been  to  his 
advantage  to  mingle  with  his  guests  and  to  listen  to 
their  praise.  He  went  to  bed  and  lay  there  in  the 
dark,  reliving  the  scenes  of  his  story.  Then,  after 
awhile,  he  drifted  off  into  sleep,  his  first  dreamless, 
untroubled  slumber  in  many  a  night. 

By  the  time  the  Convention  was  assembled  the 
next  day,  however,  he  had  recovered  his  old  spirit  of 
driving  energy.  The  chairman  had  invited  him  bj 
telephone  to  attend  the  afternoon  meeting,  and  Luck 
went  —  to  be  greeted  by  a  rousing  applause  when  he 
walked  down  the  aisle  to  the  platform  where  the 
chairman  was  waiting  for  him. 

Resolutions  had  already  been  passed,  the  Conven- 
tion as  a  body  thanking  Luck  Lindsay  for  the  privi- 
lege of  seeing  what  was  in  their  judgment  the  great- 
est Western  picture  that  had  ever  been  produced. 
The  chairman  made  a  little  speech  about  the  pleasure 
and  the  privilege,  and  presented  Luck  with  a  letter  of 
endorsement  and  signed  with  due  formality  by  chair- 
man and  secretary  and  sealed  with  the  official  seal. 
Attached  to  the  letter  was  a  copy  of  the  vote  of 
thanks,  and  you  may  imagine  how  Luck  smiled  when 
he  saw  that! 


LUCK  MAKES  A  SPEECH     317 

He  stayed  a  little  while,  and  during  the  recesg 
which  presently  was  called  he  shook  hands  with  many 
an  old-timer  whose  name  stood  for  a  good  deal  in 
the  great  State  of  Texas.  Then  he  left  them,  still 
smiling  over  what  he  called  his  good  luck,  and  wired 
a  copy  of  the  letter  of  endorsement  to  all  the  trade 
journals,  to  be  incorporated  in  his  full-page  advertis- 
ing. By  another  stroke  of  luck  he  caught  most  of  the 
trade  journals  before  their  forms  closed  for  the  next 
issue,  so  that  The  Phantom  Herd  was  speedily  her- 
alded throughout  the  profession  as  the  first  really 
authentic  Western  drama  ever  produced.  By  still 
another  stroke  of  what  he  called  luck,  an  Associated 
Press*  man  found  him  out,  and  was  pleased  to  ask 
him  many  questions  and  to  make  a  few  notes;  and 
Luck,  wise  to  the  value  of  publicity,  answered  the 
questions  and  saw  to  it  that  the  notes  recorded  inter- 
esting facts. 

That  evening  Luck,  feeling  that  he  had  reached 
the  last  mile-post  on  the  road  to  success,  hunted  up 
a  few  old-timers  who  appealed  to  him  most  as  true 
types  of  the  range,  and  gave  them  a  dinner  in  a  cer- 
tain place  which  he  knew  was  run  by  an  old  round-up 
cook.  There  was  nothing  about  that  dinner  which 
would  have  appealed  to  a  cabaret  crowd.  They 


318        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

talked  of  the  old  days  when  Luck  was  a  lad,  those 
old-timers ;  they  talked  of  trail-herds  and  of  droughts 
and  of  floods  and  blizzards  anc^  range  wars  and  the 
market  prices  of  beef  "  on  the  hoof."  They  called 
in  the  old  round-up  cook  and  cursed  him  companion- 
ably  as  one  of  themselves,  and  remembered  that  more 
than  one  of  them  had  run  when  he  pounded  the  bot- 
tom of  a  frying  pan  and  hollered  "  Come  and  get 
it !  "  They  ate  and  they  smoked  and  they  talked 
and  talked  and  talked,  until  Luck  had  to  indulge 
himself  in  a  taxi  if  he  would  not  miss  the  eleven 
o'clock  train  north.  His  only  regret,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  practically  and  familiarly  broke 
again,  was  that  circumstances  did  not  permit  the 
Happy  Family  to  sit  with  him  at  that  table.  Es- 
pecially did  he  regret  not  having  old  Applehead  and 
the  dried  little  man  with  him  that  night  to  make  his 
gathering  complete. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

SHES    SHAPING    UP    LIKE    A   BANK    KO'Li, 


' 


4  '\  ^7  ELL,"  said  Luck  to  the  Happy  Family, 
»  V  "  we've  come  this  far  along  the  trail,  and 
now  I'm  stuck  again.  Bank  won't  loan  any  more  on 
the  camera,  and  I've  got  a  dollar  and  six  bits  to  mar- 
ket The  Phantom  Herd  with  !  Everything's  fine  so 
far;  she's  advertised,  —  or  will  be  when  the  maga- 
zines come  out,  —  and  she's  got  some  good  press  no- 
tices to  back  her  up;  but  she  ain't  outa  the  woods 
yet.  I've  got  to  raise  some  money  somehow.  I  hate 
to  ask  poor  old  Applehead  —  " 

"  Pore  old  Applehead,  my  granny  !  "  bawled  Big 
Medicine,  laughing  his  big  haw-haw.  "  Pore  ole 
Applehead's  sure  steppin'  high  these  days.  He'd 
mortgage  his  ranch  and  feel  like  a  millionaire,  by 
cripes!  His  ole  Gome-Paddy  cat  jest  natcherally 
walloped  the  tar  outa  Shunky  Cheestely,  and  Apple- 
head  seen  him  doin'  it  Come-Paddy,  he's  hangin' 
out  in  the  house  now,  by  cripes,  'cept  when  he  takes 
a  sashay  down  to  the  stable  lookin'  fer  more.  And 


320        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

Shunky,  he's  bedded  down  under  the  Ketch-all,  when 
he  ain't  hittin'  fer  the  tall  timber  with  his  tail 
clamped  down  between  his  legs.  Honest  to  grand- 
ma, Luck,  you  couldn't  hit  Applehead  at  a  better 
time.  He'll  borry  money  er  do  anything  yuh  care 
to  ask,  except  shut  up  that  there  cat  uh  hisn." 

"  Well,  luck  may  come  my  way ;  I'll  just  sit  tight 
a  few  days  and  see,"  said  Luck.  "  When  that  posi- 
tive film  comes,  I'll  have  to  rustle  money  somewhere 
to  get  it  outa  the  express  office,  so  we  can  make  more 
prints.  And  — " 

"  And  grind  our  daylights  out  again  on  that  there 
drum  that  never  does  git  wound  up  ?  "  groaned  Big 
Medicine,  and  felt  his  biceps  tenderly. 

"  We  won't  rush  the  next  job  quite  so  hard,"  Luck 
soothed,  perfectly  amiable  and  easy  to  live  with, 
now  that  the  worst  was  over.  "  We  made  a  darn 
good  set  of  prints,  just  the  same;  boys,  you  oughta 
seen  that  picture!  I've  a  good  mind  to  get  some 
house  here  in  town  to  run  it ;  say,  I  might  raise  some 
money  that  way,  if  I  can't  do  it  any  other."  And 
then  his  enthusiasm  cooled.  "  Town  isn't  big 
enough  for  a  long-enough  run,"  he  considered  dis- 
gustedly. "  I'm  past  the  two-bit  stage  of  the  game 
now." 


LIKE  A  BANK  ROLL,          321 

"Well,  you  ask  Applehead  to  raise  the  money," 
advised  Weary.  "  Or  one  of  us  will  write  to  Chip 
for  some.  Mamma!  The  world's  full  of  money! 
Seems  like  it  ought  to  be  easy  to  get  hold  of  some." 

"  It  is  —  but  it  ain't/'  Luck  stated  somewhat 
ambiguously,  and  turned  the  talk  to  his  meeting  with 
the  old-timers,  and  prepared  to  "  sit  tight "  and  wait 
for  his  god  Good  Luck  to  smile  upon  him. 

The  smile  arrived  at  noon  the  next  day,  in  the  form 
of  a  wire  from  Philadelphia.  Luck  read  it  and 
gave  a  whoop  of  joy  quite  at  variance  with  his  usual 
surface  calm. 

Can  Offer  You  Fifteen  Hundred  Dollars  for  Penn- 
sylvania Rights  The  Phantom  Herd  Usual  Ten  Cents 
Per  Foot  Positive  Prints  if  Accepted  Wire  at  Once 
and  Ship  to  This  Point 

R,  J  Crittenden 

"  I  hollered  too  soon,"  groaned  Luck,  when  he  had 
read  it  the  second  time,  pushing  back  his  hair  dis- 
tractedly. "  How  the  devil  am  I  going  to  send  him 
any  positive  prints  at  ten  cents  a  foot  or  ten  cents 
an  inch  or  any  other  price?  Till  I  get  that  ship- 
ment of  positive,  I  can't  fill  any  orders  at  all !  And 
until  I  begin  to  fill  orders,  I  can't  realize  on  the 
film.  Can  you  beat  that?  I'll  have  to  wire  him 


322        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

to  wait,  and  that's  two  thousand  dollars  tied  up !  " 

"  Aw,  gwan !  "  Happy  Jack  croaked  argumenta- 
tively.  "  Why  don't  you  send  him  what  you  took  to 
the  Convention  ?  " 

Luck  stared  at  Happy  stupefied  before  he  said  a 
word.  "  Say,  Miguel,  you  saddle  your  ridge-runner 
while  I  get  ready  to  take  this  wire  back  to  town  and 
send  it  off,"  he  snapped,  preparing  to  write.  "  Sure, 
I'll  send  that  set  of  prints!  Happy,  you  can  go  to 
the  head  of  the  class.  Xow  it's  only  a  case  of  sit 
tight  till  the  money  comes.  The  prints  are  packed 
and  in  the  bank  vault,  so  I'll  just  get  them  out  and 
send  them  C.  O.  D.  to  Mr.  Crittenden,  along  with 
the  states-rights  contract.  How's  that  for  luck, 
boys  ? " 

"  Pretty  good  —  for  Luck,"  grinned  Andy  mean- 
ingly. "  Fly  at  it,  you  coming  millionaire !  " 

"Just  a  case  of  sit  tight,  boys.  Adios!"  cried 
Luck  jubilantly  as  he  hurried  away. 

Once  start  along  a  smooth  trail,  and  everything 
seems  to  conspire  toward  a  pleasant  trip.  To  prove 
it,  Luck  found  another  telegram  waiting  for  him  in 
Albuquerque.  This  was  from  Martinson,  and  might 
be  interpreted  as  an  apology  more  or  less  abject. 
Certainly  it  was  an  urgent  request  that  he  return  im- 


LIKE  A  BANK  ROLL,          323 

mediately  to  Los  Angeles  and  to  his  old  place  at  the 
Acme,  and  produce  Western  pictures  under  no  super- 
vision whatever. 

Luck  gave  a  little  chuckle  when  he  pocketed  that 
message,  but  he  did  not  send  any  answer.  He  meant 
to  wait  and  talk  it  over  with  the  boys  first.  "  Better 
proposition  than  before,"  Martinson  said.  \^ell, 
perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  look  into  it;  Luck  was 
too  experienced  to  believe  that  one  success  means  per- 
manent success ;  there  are  too  many  risks  for  the  free 
lance  to  run  when  a  single  failure  means  financial 
annihilation.  If  the  Acme  would  come  to  his  terms, 
it  might  be  to  his  advantage  to  take  his  boys 
back  and  accept  this  peace-offering.  At  any  rate, 
he  appreciated  to  the  full  the  triumph  they  had 
scored. 

Next,  by  some  twist  of  the  red  tape  in  the  Phila- 
delphia express  office, —  or  perhaps  E.  J.  Crittenden 
was  a  good  fellow  and  asked  them  to  do  it, —  the  two 
thousand  dollars  came  by  wire,  just  three  days  after 
Luck  had  received  notice  that  his  shipment  of  posi- 
tive film  was  being  held  for  him  at  the  express  office 
in  Albuquerque.  Also  came  other  offers,  mostly  by 
wire,  for  states  rights  to  The  Phantom  Herd.  And 
when  the  Happy  Family  realized  what  those  offers 


324        THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

meant,  they  didn't  care  how  hard  or  how  long  Luck 
worked  them  in  the  little  house  which  he  had  turned 
into  a  laboratory. 

Being  human,  intensely  so  in  some  ways,  the  first 
set  of  prints  they  turned  out  Luck  sent  to  Los  Angeles 
with  a  mental  godspeed  and  a  hope  that  Bently 
Brown  and  Martinson  would  see  it  and  "  get  wise 
to  what  a  real  Western  picture  looked  like."  There 
were  other  orders  ahead  of  Los  Angeles  in  Luck's 
book,  but  they  waited  a  little  longer  so  that  he  might 
the  sooner  taste  a  little  of  the  sweets  of  revenge. 

Whether  Bently  Brown  and  Martinson  saw  The 
Phantom  Herd,  Luck  was  a  long,  long  time  finding 
out.  But  he  learned  that  some  one  else  did  see  it, 
and  that  right  speedily.  For  among  his  many  tele- 
grams that  came  clicking  into  Albuquerque  was  this 
one  which  makes  a  fitting  end  to  this  story : 
Luck  Lindsay 

Albuquerque 
New  Mexico 

Congratulations  on  The  Phanton  Herd  Wonder- 
ful Production  New  Proposition  You  to  Produce 
Western  Features  with  Your  Present  Company  on 
Straight  Salary  and  Bonus  Basis  Miss  Jean  Doug- 
las to  Play  Your  Leads  if  I  Can  Sign  Her  up  Can 
You  Come  Here  at  Once  to  Close  Deal  Answer 

Dewitt 


LIKE  A  BANK  ROLU          325 

"All  right,  boys,  you  can  run  and  play."  Luck 
handed  them,  the  telegram,  looked  at  his  watch,  and 
began  to  roll  down  his  sleeves.  "  I'll  catch  the  next 
train  for  '  Los '  and  see  Dewitt, —  don't  take  any 
studying  to  know  that's  the  thing  to  do, —  and  if 
you'll  pack  all  this  negative,  Bill,  I'll  take  that  along 
and  hire  the  rest  of  the  prints  made.  Andy,  you're 
riding  herd  on  this  bunch  while  I'm  gone.  Just  hold 
yourselves  ready  for  orders,  because  I  cLon't  know 
how  things  will  shape  up.  But  believe  me,  boys, 
she's  shaping  up  like  a  bank-roll !  " 


THE   HND 


B.  M.  Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Illustrated 

CHIP,  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  •wherein  the  love  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told.  Chip's 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  blue 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.  A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Cow-puncher. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys.  Foremost  amongst 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  many  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  tha  plains,  describing  a  gay  party  of  Eas- 
terners who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  rough  homeli- 
ness of  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  the  effusive  Sir  Redmond,  become  living, 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS 

Here  are  everyday,  genuine  cowboys,  just  as  they  really  exist. 
Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  brieht,  jolly,  entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  page. 

THE   LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  portrayal  of  the  experience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  co%vboys  of  the  West,  in  search  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud* '  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  while  following 
"the  lure  of  the  dim  trails"  but  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
welcome,  is  that  of  love. 

THE  LONESOME  TRAIL 

i  "Weary"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con-1 
ventional  city  life  palls  on  him.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush, 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  return._A  wholesoaae 

love  story,    «  Nw 

THE  LONG  SHA60W 

A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  withy,  the  free,  outdoor, 
life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  .apidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game  of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  lovs  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

'••  Ask  for  a  complete  free  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26xn  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM  MacLEOD   RAINE 

HANDSOMELY  BOUND  IN  CLOTH.     ILLUSTRATED. 
May  bi  had  wherever  books  aro  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  ind  Dunlap's  list 

MAVERICKS.  / 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "rustler,"  whose  dep^ 
reflations  are  so  keenly  resented  by  the  early  settlers  of  the  range, 
abounds.  One  of  the  sweetest  love  stories  ever  told./ 

A.  TEXAS  RANGER. 

How  a  member  of  the  most  dauntless  border  police  force  carried 
law  into  the  mesquit,  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man  after  a  series 
of  thrilling  adventures,  followed  a  fugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then 
passed  through  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness. 

WYOMING. 

In  this  vivid  story  of  the  outdoor  West  the  author  has  captured 
the  breezy  charm  of  "cattleland,"  and  brings  out  the  iurbid  life  of 
the  frontier  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  poli- 
tics and  mining  industries  are  the  religion  cf  the  country.  The 
political  contest,  the  love  scene,  and  the  fine  chciracter  drawing  giro 
this  story  great  strength  and  charm. 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR, 

Every  chapter  teems  with  'wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  re- 
plete with  the  dashing  spirit  of  the  border,  told  with  dramatic  dash 
and  absorbing  fascination  01  style  and  plot. 

CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT. 

A  story  of  Arizona;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws;  of 
i  bitter  feud  between  cattle-men  and  sheep-herders.  The  heroine 
s  a  most  unusual  woman  and  her  love  story  reaches  a  cuVtnination 
chat  is  fittingly  characteristic  of  the  great  free  West. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS. 

A  story  of  the  Cattle  Range.  This  story  brings  out  the  turbia 
life  of  the  frontier,  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor,  with  a  charm- 
ing love  interest  running  through  its  320  pages. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,     PUBLISHERS,      NEW  YORK 


DATE  DUE 


ARY  FACILITY 


7  9 


GAYLORD 


MTED  IN  U.S.A. 


